


Breathing Fire

by jordanparissh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Stiles, Cheating, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I think? at the end mostly, Kissing, M/M, Partner Betrayal, Rimming, Top!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanparissh/pseuds/jordanparissh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stiles. Are we gonna keep this up? And our relationships?”<br/>“Yes? Yeah. I guess.”<br/>“This is so wrong.”</p><p>or the one where Derek and Stiles both have girlfriends, but decide to cheat on them with each other anyways</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> The title just got stuck in my head. I don't really know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've seen any mistakes, please tell me, this is one of my ways of learning english. thanks.

**I.**

 

  The door of the coffee shop closes for the last time that evening. Derek walks around, putting away the remaining cupcakes, cleaning the counter and the sink. Stiles is fast asleep, one arm spread out across one of the little tables, his head over it, mouth open, legs tangled underneath the chair. Clearly uncomfortable.

  “Stiles.” Derek says, shoves his left shoulder lightly. “Stiles, c’mon. I’ve closed the shop.”

  “Can’t I just stay here?” Stiles’ voice's deep and slow, very much different from the usual loud and excited tone he always uses. His throat is dry. He hopes deep down that Derek would let him take the couch. Or that same table. Who cares. Anything seems more appealing than walking two blocks to his apartment.

 “Okay. You wanna crash on the couch? Go ahead. If you wake up with your back killing you, I don’t wanna hear _one single word_.” Ugh, Derek's always _so_ rude. He's like a cat, and this probably isn't the first time Stiles makes this comparison. Derek's moving around the tables, straight to the back of the shop, heading upstairs. Stiles follows him shortly after.

  Derek’s little place above the shop is the cutest thing, really. Very small, with a small kitchen, and a small living room, and small bedroom. Curiously, the bathroom isn’t _that_ small. Stiles has always liked the decoration, too. Much better than his own. Derek has paintings and a shelf with all of his books and shit.

  Stiles takes off his clothes, folds and places them on the little coffee table, because Derek is very organised, right, and he’d probably kill Stiles if his living room turned into a mess.

  Laying down on the couch, Stiles realizes just how tired he is. And also how comfortable he is around Derek, wearing only his boxers, something he’d found hard to do around Malia when they’d started dating.

  Stiles and Derek met two years ago, when Stiles was seventeen and Derek twenty. Stiles had applied for the job Derek was offering at his coffee shop, trying to gather some money to use during college, so as not to overload his dad. His textbooks were already expensive enough. Now, though, his dad didn’t have any more money for college, and Stiles decided to drop it, just keep on working on Derek’s shop to maintain himself. Not ideal, but it works, at least.

  Since then, their friendship had grown a lot, what with them seeing each other everyday.

  Thinking about all that, Stiles can't sleep, which was something new for him, specially at Derek’s house. That couch was like his wife. (Thinking about it, he’d _probably_ end up really marrying that couch.)

  He decides to get up and wander in the dark, looking for something, not even sure what.

  The kitchen’s lights are on, and that’s were Stiles finds Derek, leaning against the table, muscular back turned to the door where Stiles is standing, wearing only black boxers that cling to his ass perfectly.

  Okay, so Stiles _has_ to admit that Derek's ridiculously hot. Breathtakingly so. Specially like this, wearing basically nothing, his stubble accentuating the cheekbones. Stiles wish he could tell Derek how gorgeous he is, without making it seem like something it isn’t.

  Or maybe is, a little bit.

  Obviously, Stiles doesn’t tell him anything like that. “What are you doing?” Is what comes out of his mouth instead.

  Derek turns around immediately, looking a little startled and very sleepy.

  “What are _you_ doing? I thought you needed some sleep.” He has a drink on his hands, the bottle of vodka behind him over the table, half-empty. 

  “I do need some sleep.” Stiles walks around Derek to get a glass, and then to the table to pour himself a drink. “Just, couldn’t sleep, don’t know why.”

  Derek just nods his head, silent as always.  They drink side by side silently, listening to a car pass the street once in a while. After the third glass, they're both talking nonsense, Stiles telling Derek about the other day, when a lady had fell in front of the store.

  "And then, like, she tripped, and fell." He says, motioning his hands around, trying to show Derek what happened.

  When he's finished his story, Derek is laughing. Stiles realizes how outgoing Derek gets when he drinks, how different he gets from his usual self, that is quiet and silent.

  After the bottle's all gone, Stiles feels very nice, the buzz in his ears interfering on his thoughts, making him think about how hot Derek is, and how Malia's kind of ignoring him the whole week, because of her stupid vet stuff.

  And well, Derek is standing right here with him.

  In fact, their bodies are very, very close, and suddenly Stiles is more than aware of that.

  It would only take one step to close that gap and press his lips against Derek’s thin ones.

  They stare at each other weirdly, and Derek still has a tiny smile on his lips, and Stiles should go to bed, should ignore all that's going through his head right now, all the want boiling in his blood. He _should_. Only moving right now seems pretty hard.

  Derek just looks so _desirable_.

  Specially because Stiles has been kind of neglecting himself, what with the whole no-Malia situation.

  He starts noticing how Derek's eyes seem to be a darker tone of green right now. It might be the light, or something. It's still a very beautiful green.   

  "You're staring." Derek says, looking inside Stiles' eyes.

  "What? Oh. Sorry."

  Derek just shakes his head, doesn't break eye contact with Stiles. Just stares at him like he can see Stiles' soul. Then, he gets closer and closer, and Stiles heart misses a beat when Derek's lips find his.

  That feeling's something else, supernatural, makes his fingers tingle, even. Probably because Stiles is drunk, but it feels like the best kiss of his life. When Derek’s thongue pushes inside Stiles’ mouth slowly, sliding against Stiles’ own, tracing the countours of his teeth, when Stiles feels Derek's stubble iching on his cheeks, he feels like it  _really_ is the best kiss he's ever had.

  Derek’s hands settle on Stiles’ arms, backing him up against the table, caging him, never breaking the kiss. Then both of them move to Stiles’ waist, in a strong grip.

  It's so hot, Stiles has to grab Derek's waist thightly, because he feels like he might fall down to the ground. Probably because his drunk limbs aren't really helping to keep him up.

  Then Derek is kissing Stiles' jaw, and Stiles can feel his blood running south, and no, _no_ , he’s not getting hard while kissing one of his best friends. While kissing his _boss_.

  Except that he is. God, that is so embarrassing.

  That’s when he resumes the kiss, takes Derek's face in his hands, kisses him hard enough that Derek might not realize Stiles is half hard already. If he does, Stiles is ready to apologize for all this.

  Only when they break the kiss, Derek looks down between them, doesn’t say anything, just looks down and then back up at Stiles’ face, the green on his eyes piercing through Stiles' skin.

  Stiles looks down just like Derek, and okay, his embarrassment is gone, because that looks a lot like the outline of a hard dick. On Derek’s boxers. Holy shit.

  He’s not sure if that is surprinsing or arousing. Maybe both. Definitely.

  They stare at each other for a few seconds, and then Derek’s hand is moving towards Stiles’ boxers, pushing them down. He’s asking for consent with his eyebrows, and Stiles just nods his head shortly, as Derek’s hand closes around his cock.

  Stiles feels like he might cry. He has _dreamed_ about this, damnit. Has dreamed about his crush, about  _Derek,_ doing this, and a lot of other things. (Not that he is ever confessing it to anyone. Ever.)

  Derek’s palm is so warm, his fingers so strong, holy shit, Stiles is going to die. The feeling is too good. Then his thumb passes over the head of Stiles’ cock, and this is even better. Feels so fucking good, Stiles has to kiss him. To thank him, obviously. (Or maybe to stop himself from letting any noise come out of his mouth.)

  He has to let go of the kiss, though, because he can’t breathe. His hands are now on Derek’s arms, searching for support, feelings his muscles flex as he runs his hand up and down Stiles’ length. Stiles is gasping against his shoulder, has to grip Derek's arms tighter because it's too good, too much at once.

  And it's just a handjob, so, yeah. Stiles might be returning to his teenage years. Or maybe that's something Derek causes.

  Derek strokes him until his release, teases him all the way through, bites Stiles' neck and earlobe, until Stiles is the one biting on the soft skin of Derek's shoulder to stop himself from letting something embarrassing slip.

  Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t have a minor orgasm when Derek licked his hand clean, and then crouched down to lick the come on Stiles’ stomach.

  “Shit” He breathes. Looks at Derek's face again, kisses him once more before realizing that Derek's still hard, and, well, he can't allow that, can he?

   So he turns them around, now being the one to cage Derek against the table, wraps his hand around Derek’s cock, slides it up and down, twisting his wrist. His mouth goes straight for Derek’s neck, licking, biting faintly, enough to have Derek panting over his shoulder.

  Stiles tries to keep a steady pace with his hand, but now Derek is kind of fucking into it, which makes his job a little harder until they find the perfect rhythm.

  Derek comes hard shortly after, all over his and Stiles’ stomachs, letting out a low moan that is just outrageous.

  Derek leans in again to kiss Stiles lazily, and then moving away to get a washcloth, coming back right after to clean both of them.

  Awkward silence falls in the kitchen as Stiles looks at Derek, who seems to be avoiding any kind of eye contact.

  That’s when Stiles realizes what they just did. What they did to their friendship, to their girlfriends, _shit_. Derek looks just as guilty as him. He turns around and leaves to his bedroom, muttering a low “Goodnight”, leaving Stiles with his boxers down, thinking about what the hell he’s going to do now.

  As in, tomorrow, because _right_ now, he’s going to the couch, take some well deserved sleep. 

 

 ✦

 

  Sunlight comes in through the window straight to Stiles’ eyes, waking him up way too early. He waits for his vision to adjust, looking around the room, remembering he's at Derek's. Which brings him the memories of what he did  _with_ Derek.

  He wishes he could say  _'we just played monopoly'_ , because that is so much better than saying  _'we exchanged handjobs in Derek's kitchen'._ So. Much. Better.

  Stiles decides to get up, put on his clothes and head downstairs. Right above his pants, there’s a note by Derek.

 

_I_ _’m opening the shop. Take a shower, eat something if you want._

 

  He’s going for the not taking a shower and not eating anything, since the guilt in his gut barely lets him look at Derek’s apartment. Stiles heads downstairs, finds Derek talking to a customer, similing like he never does in a normal conversation. He must know that smile makes girls all over fall to their knees, or else he wouldn't throw it at anyone ever.

  “Hey.” Is all Stiles can say after the lady leaves. The shop is empty, except for them and a guy sitting with his earbuds on. “Um... I’m going home.”

  “Okay. Enjoy your break. Allison is kind of late, but it’s not a very busy day, so...” Derek doesn’t even _look_ at him. Which, yeah, understandable.

  Stiles starts thinking about how Derek's one of his best friend, is  _the_ best friend after Scott, and also his fucking boss, so. Yeah. He's pretty sure he fucked up everything, but at least he can say Derek did too. Because Derek also has a girlfriend.

  Before he can think about it all too much and go crazy, he mutters a low ‘bye’ and leaves, not waiting for the response. 

 

✦

 

  He doesn’t go home. Heads straight to Scott’s instead, knocking on his door, waiting for the lazy bastard to open.

  When Scott opens the door, he's wearing only sweatpants and his hair is all messed up. He looks really pissed, which Stiles doesn't understand at first, but Scott makes sure to clarify it to him. 

  “Stiles, it’s seven in the morning, _on a Sunday._ What the hell are you doing here?”

  Stiles shrugs. “Nice to see you too, dude.”

  He walks past Scott, invades his apartment, sits down on his table. 

  "Can you make coffee to me?"

  "Stiles, you're nineteen years old, and this is basically your house. Can you make your own coffee? Hint: the answer is yes."

  "Please?" Stiles tries, looking at his hands.

  Scott must catch something on his expression, or something, because a second after he turns around and walks towards the coffee maker, starts setting it.

  “Stiles? What happened?” He asks with his back still turned to Stiles.

  Stiles sighs, looks down at his hands. Sighs again, looks around, out the window, at Scott, _anything_ , so he can avoid speaking. Only he has to speak sometime, specially now with Scott looking at him from across the room, expectation clear on his face.

  “I screwed up, Scott. Bad.” He sighs. 

  "Oh.. kay? Go on. Elaborate."

  "Well." Stiles sighs. How does one tell this kind of thing? Yeah, sure, Scott won't see anything bad about Stiles being with a boy, because he knows Stiles is bisexual, has known since high school. But he might see something bad, terrible, about Stiles cheating on Malia. 

  He still hasn't started talking when Scott hands him a mug full of heavenly coffee, so Scott tries again.

  "Okay. Well, you don't look like you went home last night."

  "Yeah, I didn't. Spent the night at Derek's." Stiles then decides to look at Scott, regrets it, looks back at his hands and adds, "Yeah. I. Um. Cheated on Malia. With Derek."

  He’s _so_ ashamed. Can’t even look at his best friend. Not that he needs to, because he already knows Scott has that expression that says _‘yes, you screwed up, but I’m still here for you’._ Because that’s just who Scott is. Nice and caring, such a good person, which somehow makes Stiles feels even more guilty. Why can’t he be just like Scott?

  But then he thinks Derek can be just like Scott sometimes, tries to protect everyone and be nice even though his face almost always looks unfriendly. Everyone around Derek knows he's cool, though. And still, Derek did what he did.

  “Stiles.” He begins, then stops, then tries again. “I don’t even know what to tell you. Fuck. Um... that sucks?”

  “Wow. Good one, Scott. Thanks.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Scott asks, and gets no response, because obviously, Stiles doesn’t know what he wants to hear. “What are you going to do now?” Scott tries again,sitting besides Stiles, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “I have no idea, dude.”

  Exactly, he has no idea. Whatsoever. Obviously, he can’t tell Malia. She’d probably kill him. Stiles feels more guilty than he ever thought was possible. And it’s not even about the fact that he did what he did. It’s because he's pretty sure wants to do it again.

 

✦

 

  Stiles can’t even _look_ at Malia. She’s over his house, studying, sitting cross-legged in front of his coffee table, sipping on her tea every once in a while. She’s concentrated on her paper, not paying any attention to the tv, that is currently playing Toddlers and Tiaras, for some reason.

  Stiles walks around her and sits on the couch, fastly changing channels because yeah, there’s _no way_ he’s watching Toddlers and Tiaras. It’s just so stupid. However, he pays zero attention to what he’s doing, and ends up stopping where an old rerun of Supernatural is on, just briefly listening to whatever it is the hot dude on the screen is saying.

  His mind keeps drifting back to four nights ago, when he and Derek had exchanged handjobs. In Derek’s kitchen. Willingly so. Happily so.

  Both of them are dating other people, _girls,_ but neither of them seemed to have cared about that when they where coming all over each other, embarrasingly fast, with such intensity. God, if he could just un-do it.

  Stiles had jerked off about two hundred times in the last two days (okay, maybe and exaggeration, but it really did happen a lot of times). He’d finally let go of the old habit of not letting himself think about anyone but Malia while doing it. Finally let his mind be filled with Derek, Derek and Derek. Thinking about his thin lips, his gorgeous cheekbones and body and voice. About Derek giving him a blowjob - which was probably never going to happen, but Stiles is only human, right? -, using his experience thongue to tease Stiles.

  Because, yeah, now that Stiles knows Derek’s thongue a little better, there's no way he’s going to hold back on that thought.

  _It’s not like I haven’t crossed the line already,_ Stiles thinks, everytime he does it. _It’s not like both of us haven’t._

Stiles finds himself to be right now just a very stupid guy trying to justify his actions. Using the drinks they had as an excuse for doing something he had wanted to do since day one, when he applied for the job and it crossed his mind that _hey, this is a very hot boss_.

  He just wantsto do it again, honestly. And more, even.

  “Stiles.”

  “Hm? What?” As he raises his eyes, he realized Malia is staring at him, a weird look on her face, while folding everything back into her bag, getting up from her sitting position.

  “I’m leaving.” And then, she’s walking over to him, and sitting on his lap, and kissing him. Oh. Okay. She’s still his girlfriend after all, right? She can kiss him. Totally. “Bye, babe.”

  “Bye.” Stiles watches as she walks over to the door, pausing before opening it to throw him a smile over her shoulder, then leaving him alone with his sadness.

  He knows she's going to have a lot more of college stuff to do in the next few months, so there's no way they're having sex now. He doesn't know what he's going to do when she wants to have sex, though. He's not sure he could do it now.

 

✦

 

  Facing Derek in the last few days had seemed impossible, so Stiles faked sick and asked Allison to fill in for him. Right now though, five days later, he _had_ to do it, had to go to work and look at Derek and talk to him.

  Stiles walks into the shop silently, leaving behind a very cold street to get in a warm and nice place. Or at least somewhere that used to be warm and nice. He’s not that sure now.

  “Morning.” Is all he gives Derek, who’s sitting behind the counter, going through some stupid magazine, looking very focused on whatever he’s reading.

  Derek looks up at him, then looks around the shop, as if checking for other people. The shop is empty though, and then Derek is looking at him again, the grumpy cat expression he always wears on his face.

  “Morning?” Derek phrases it as a question, kind of. Then he sighs and waves for the stool placed in front of the counter, where customers can sit and eat. “I think we need to talk.”

  Stiles finds himself walking over to it and sitting, then looking expectantly at Derek.

  “Okay, so.” Derek looks unsure of what to say. “So. We did what we did. And I don’t think we should be doing it again. Ever. We have girlfriends, after all, and it would be wrong, and that’s that.”

  Something twists on Stiles’ stomach, and is that sadness he feels? No, it can’t be. Derek’s right, after all. They can’t do it again.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Is what comes out of Stiles’ mouth, just as automatically as everything else he does. “You’re right. Let’s not. We’re still friends though, right?”

  Derek just nods, going back to his silent self, then gives Stiles a very small smile, that is over in less than two seconds, and that’s when Stiles realises that Derek is back. Not uncomfortable anymore. Good, at least one of them is feeling better.

  “Now get to work. I’m still your boss.”

  Stiles gets behind the counter fastly, smiling a little, feeling as if everything is normal, even though he knows it isn’t. Trying to ignore everything. Then the first client walks in, and he can’t think of anything else besides coffee.

  Work day passes faster than usually, probably because Stiles had spent some time away from here, and was starting to really miss it. He’s come to like the smell of coffee and hot chocolate, the decorated cupcakes and everything else Derek baked.

  (Something that surprised Stiles since his first day of work: grumpy cat Derek actually knew how to cook, bake and prepare drinks better than anyone else Stiles had ever known, even his mom, who was a very good cook. Except for when she was sick, and forgeting stuff, and leaving the food in the oven, almost setting the house on fire accidentaly. Oh well. Thinking about all this always made Stiles sad. Good thing that, whenever he got sad, Derek would bake him stuff.)

  When he says goodbye to Derek at 8pm, it’s like nothing happened. Like they’re back to normal, really.

 

✦

 

  It had been two weeks since he and Derek had talked everything out, solved the situation. Decided to be just friends. Which was totally the best decision. Surely.

  Still, they’re kind of not okay. Not talking like they used to, not laughing about customers, not discussing the new episode of this and that tv show, or the new song some band released, or _whatever_ it was they did before. It’s like they’re not even friends anymore, even though they had agreed they’d keep their friendship going.

  Tonight, though, Stiles feels determined to fix this. Party at Scott’s, no girls allowed, a lot of booze. Heck yeah. Perfect opportunity to fix a friendship that went downhill.

  He’s already at Scott’s apartment, waiting on everyone else, already pretty excited from the few drinks he had earlier. Scott’s place is just like his own: small apartment with two beedrooms, enough for three people, even though there’s probably not space enough for three people’s _things_. Anyway.

  Derek gets there along with Boyd twenty minutes after Danny and Jackson, which means he gets there _really_ late, because Jackson and Danny are _always_ late. Might be because the two of them have the obssession with looking extremely good.

  That also means Derek gets there when Stiles is more than just a little bit drunk. That causes Stiles to sit right beside him, shoulders and tighs touching, not even realizing it.

  “Sooo I think I really need to tell you” Scott is interrupted by a little hiccup, “Ha, sorry. I need to tell you guys something.”

  They all turn to look at him expectantly.

  “I... I. Like, not only me. Kira was there. We had a threesome.” Scott’s little smirk is kind of annoying really, because he’s just so smug about it.

  “What? No way dude, tell us _everything_.” That’s Danny.

  “Who was the third person?” And that’s Jackson. Probably. Stiles is not sure.

  “It was a guy, like, a really hot guy, and I think I kissed him? I’m not sure, we were drunk. I just remember he had a pretty cock. His name’s Isaac. But, yeah, it was _great_.”

  “That sounds really hot.”

  “Not hot if it was with another guy, _Danny_.”

  “Have you forgotten I’m gay, _Jackson_?”

  “You all sound like twelve year-olds. Really.” Derek sounds and looks annoyed. No big news, though, he’s always annoyed.  “Let’s just stop talking about other people’s dicks.”

  Stiles laughs and then it’s just slipping out of his mouth, really, like everything he says, because he’s so stupid, so damn stupid, and never measures anything before he says it.

  “Sounds like Derek here needs a little bit of sex.” He lets out, louder than he’d intended, patting Derek’s hair.

  Derek just bats his hand away, blushing just a tiny bit, and then getting bright red when the other boys laugh at him. 

  “Poor Derek.” Says Boyd. “We know Malia has been ignoring Stiles to study, now Braeden too?”

  “What? Malia’s not ignoring me.”

  “Dude, you complained about it for the last week.”

  Stiles stays silent at that, because, yeah, no denying, Malia _has_ been ignoring him. At least when it comes to sex. 

  “I think I’m done. It’s, like, 3am already, and I have to open the shop early tomorrow.” Derek says as he gets up, leaving Stiles on the ground with no one to support him. “Stiles, let’s go. You have to sleep too. I’m not giving you a break tomorrow.”

  Stiles mutters a low ‘okay’ as he gets up, clearly drunk, needing some help from Derek so he doesn’t fall face down in the ground. Then he puts his shoes on, and walks to the door where Derek’s already waiting for him.

  They leave and stumble into the elevator, and then outside, feeling the cold air strike them.

  The walk to Stiles' building is short and silent. Derek's still right by his side, though, helping him walk.

  Derek goes up to Stiles’ apartment, when they finally get there, opens the door for him, helps him get inside.

  “Okay, you’re delivered. Bye.”

  “No, Derek.” Stiles grabs his grey shirt, that looks so damn good on him. Well, everything looks good on Derek.

   “What is it?”

   “Can you kiss me?” Is what comes out Stiles’ mouth, and wait, no, that’s not what he was going to say. He was going to ask Derek to get him some water in the kitchen. Right?

  Yeah. He’s sure.

  But no, the harm is already done. Derek is looking at him with a weird expression, as if he can’t believe in what Stiles just said.

  “Stile-“ He begins, but he looks so cute, so hot, and soft, and his green eyes are blinking slowly, Stiles can’t let him finish whatever he was going to say.

  Instead, he presses his lips against Derek’s, slowly, calmly, something that is not usual for him, the hiperactive kid that can’t stop himself from moving. Not right now, though. He just wants to kiss Derek and take the best of it, wants to remember everything next morning, if his drunk mind allows him to.

  Derek kisses him just as softly, cupping Stiles’ jaw, thumbs pressing against his cheekbones just lightly, getting closer and closer. Stiles places his hands on Derek’s slim waist, feeling the muscles shift just a little.

  And then Derek’s pushing him back, hands on Stiles’ shoulders, not hard, but just enough to get Stiles a few steps away from him, hands no longer on his waist.

  “Stiles, we can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

  “You’re right.” Is Stiles’ response, but he just gets closer to Derek again, closes the gap between their lips, resuming the kiss, places his hand on Derek’s hips, fingers curling into a loose fist.

  “ _Stiles._ ” Derek whispers against his lips, his tone showing his annoyance.

  “Yeah, you’re right, you’re right.” Stiles answers, but keeps on kissing him just as smoothly as before.

  “You keep saying I’m right, but you don’t let go of me.” And that’s it, Derek is pushing him away again, this time not letting Stiles come back. “I’m leaving now. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Stiles looks at him, _stares_ , at his green eyes, this expression Stiles can’t read, at his body, everything. Feeling confused, not sure what to do. “Okay.” He just repeats. “Bye, Derek.”

  “Bye.” Is the last thing he hears before Derek is leaving him alone in his apartment, suddenly cold, still confused. They were friends again, and he had to fuck everything up.

  Like he always does. He didn't get to finish his degree in Law, but now he's pretty sure he's got an degree on fucking up.

  Anyways.

  Fuck Derek and his hot body, and his eyes, and his lips and voice and everything.

  “Fuck it.” Stiles mutters as he walks to the door, locks it.

  He’s not even drunk anymore, just dizzy. It’s no good.

   He decides to go to sleep, knowing there’s work to do tomorrow, knowing he’ll have to deal with Derek tomorrow. Shit.

  Stiles just curls around his pillow, thinking about how usually he’d pretend it’s Malia cuddling him, but now there’s only one person that comes to his mind.

  Someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post another chapter tomorrow!


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who's still reading this... thing.

**II.**

 

  “Thank you very much, have a nice day.” Derek says to the middle-aged man as he leaves the shop, looking down at his phone, waving his left hand over his shoulder.

  Stiles hasn’t arrived yet, which makes Derek a little nervous and very worried. What if he’s not coming? Derek will need his help when the shop if full of people. And, well, also…

  Also.

  The little bell above the front door is ringing, and Stiles is walking in, looking down. Taking slow steps, as if he doesn’t want to actually enter the shop, as if he wants to stay out there in the cold air Beacon Hills is offering him. Probably true.

  Derek walks around the counter, tracing his fingers on the edges of its top.

  Then he finds himself right in front of Stiles, just looking at him. Seeing how tired he looks, how there are dark bags under his eyes, his uniform not quite right, kind of wrinkled.

  “Derek.” Is all he says, voice small, and then, “I’m _so_ sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. I was drunk, and you were-"

  Except Derek doesn’t let him finish. Instead, he closes the gap between them, kisses Stiles softly at first, just a light press of lips.

  Then he backs off, not sure as what to say, what to do, where to stand. How to tell Stiles he’d been wanting to do that again, and do even more with Stiles, cross the line once again.

  Nothing comes out of his mouth.

  But Stiles doesn’t say anything as well, so.

  His brown eyes just stare into Derek’s, not revealing anything, what he’s thinking, what he’s going to do next. His expression shows shock, but still doesn’t give Derek any clue of what happens now.

  He could yell at Derek. Or maybe hit Derek – _that_ probably wouldn’t work, though. Derek's pretty sure he can handle Stiles. Or maybe not, maybe he can't, because he probably wouldn't lay a finger on Stiles' body, because it's  _Stiles_.

  Instead, Stiles comes closer again, kisses Derek, just closing his eyes on the last moment. This time, the kiss is not as soft. Rougher, in a much hotter way, more like the first time they kissed, weeks ago.

  The kiss just gets deeper and deeper, sloppy, more thongue and teeth than anything else.

  Derek feels Stiles’ hands lay on their seemingly favorite spot, his waist. Derek goes for grabbing Stiles’ hips (almost his ass, really), then curling his thumbs around Stiles’ belt loops, yanking him impossibly closer to his own body.

  At this point they’re out of their minds, the kiss taking all they’ve got.

  Derek feels like he’s about to explode, feels guilty because Braeden suddenly comes to his mind and he thinks _it’s not as good with her_ , thinks _Stiles is a much better kisser_.

  Only then the door is opening and the little bell is ringing, and they’re both jumping away from each other as if burned. Stiles stumbles back, hitting a chair with his legs, while Derek hits his ribs pretty hard on the counter.

  They both look at the door, worried looks on their faces, only to find Malia there, looking down at her phone, apparently oblivious to what just happened right in front of her.

  “Oh, hey guys.” She’s tucking her phone back on her coats’ pocket, walking to Stiles, kissing his mouth just lightly. Derek feels kind of sick, because his mouth had _just_ been on that mouth, and Malia doesn’t know, and she’s kissing Stiles as if nothing happened. Well, for her, it didn’t. “Thought I’d pass by to grab some coffee before heading to college. Derek, will you make me a black small with no sugar?”

   It takes Derek about three seconds to realize he’s acting weird, so he just nods his head, smiles at her (tries, at least) and goes back to his usual place behind the counter. He feels lost, has to remind himself that he’s here to make her coffe, black, small, no sugar. So that’s what he starts doing.

   Stiles and Malia are talking. Well, Malia’s talking to Stiles, who looks kind of sick. His eyes are just focusing on the ground, which Malia doesn’t seem to notice, his nose a little wrinkled, giving her empty answers as she talks nonstop.

  Then Derek _finally_ finishes her coffe, calls her, hands it to her, gets the money for it. Doesn’t even look at her. Pretty much.

  “Thanks, Derek.” She smiles at him, which only makes him feel worse, because she's being nice to him, and she shouldn't be. If she only knew. “I’m leaving now. Bye, baby.”

  And she’s kissing Stiles _again,_ making Derek’s blood boil in his veins, even though he knows it’s not rational, knows it doesn’t make sense, because _she_ is Stiles’ girlfriend, and he’s just the best friend.

  But who can blame him for being a little jealous, really? Stiles has been his crush since the moment he walked in, with the big bambi eyes and that weirdly cute nose. With his slender body, long fingers.

  When Malia finally leaves, Derek can’t help but sigh a little, feeling more than relieved.

  “Wow. For a moment there I thought she’d kill me.” Stiles says, laughing a little. That’s something that Derek’s always found endearing, the fact that Stiles covers his sadness and concern with jokes and sarcasm. Covers pretty much _every_ feeling with jokes and sarcasm.

  “Yeah.”

  “So. We’re slipping again, Derek-“

  Stiles doesn’t get to finish whatever it is he was going to say, because there’s three guys walking in, and they have to work.

  “Behind the counter, Stiles. We can talk about it later, right? When the shift is over.”

  Stiles looks half relieved and half disappointed.

  “Yeah, right.” And then he’s already getting behind the counter, addressing the costumers nicely, “What would the gentlemen like?”

 

✦

 

  The day passes in a rush, a very busy day for that special coffe shop. Derek’s cupcakes sell like water in a hot day, and that makes him feel happy. He’s doing what he’s been wanting to do since he was little.

  He used to watch his mom and dad bake and sell it from door to door, trying to gather money for their own place, that ended up being burned down to the ground. With all of them inside, except for Derek, Cora, his younger sister, and Peter, their not so pleasant uncle.

  With his family dead, Derek decided to wait until he was older to get the business back on track. He finally did it when he was twenty, with a lot of help from Cora, in the start (who had now left for college), and barely any help from Peter.

  Now, he was maintaining himself, the shop and two employees without problems. He wishes his parents were here to see it. Well, Braeden's here to see it. Mostly. When she isn’t fighting crime with Stiles’ dad.

  “Particularly cold night, thank god. People love coffee when it’s cold.” Stiles said, as he cleaned the one table that still had remainings of food on it.

  “Yeah.” Derek sat in one of the chairs, watching as Stiles roamsthrough the shop, finishes his job, and then sits in the other chair, directly in front of the one Derek's sitting.

  “So.”

  “So.” Derek cleans his throat, trying to find the exact words. “It seems that we can’t stay apart from each other. Like, like we have to be touching all the time.”

  “Right, yeah.” Stiles sighs. “Do you think we should break up with our girlfriends?”

  Derek gives the thought a chance. Would he like to break up with Braeden? 

  Probably not. What they have is good, he likes her, a lot. Also, he's not that sure he and Stiles could work. 

  “No.” Is what he settles for.

  “Yeah, I agree.” Stiles says. He doesn’t _look_ like he agrees, but. Whatever.

  “But I think we’ll end up doing it again. Probably.” Derek adds.

  “Definitely.” Stiles breathes. “Wait, I didn’t mean… Whatever.”

  “So if we’re not breaking up with them, but we’re keeping this up…”

  Stiles just stares at him for a couple of moments, looking doubtful. Then he looks away, around the shop. Looks at the tables, the machines, anything but Derek, until he apparently decides to put his eyes back again on Derek’s face. He doesn’t say anything, though.  _That_ is a first. Stiles, who’s always talking nonstop, silent? Derek didn’t think he’d live to see this.

  “Stiles. _Are_ we gonna keep this up? _And_ our relationships?”

  “Yes?” Stiles answers, clearly unsure, and then with more conviction, “Yeah. I guess.”

  “This is so wrong.”

  “I know, Derek. _I know._ ” Stiles kind of looks like a lost puppy, and that makes Derek’s heart swell, makes the air leave his lungs. “But I don’t want to break up with Malia. I _like_ her. And I _also_ like kissing you. And… other stuff. So, you know, it's confusing.”

  “I get it. I don't want to break up with Braeden. And. Well, the same thing about you.”

  “Cool. So, we agree that we’re both going to be complete jerks and keep going with this idiotic situation?”

  “I guess we do.” Derek feels lighter, somehow.

   Not because they agreed on this, of course, because this, what they’re doing, what they’ll keep on doing, is _insane._ No, he feels better because Stiles is on the same page as him, because Stiles is an idiot just as much as he is.

  He looks at Stiles intently, trying to memorize the contours of his defined face.

  And then Stiles is staring at him too, a small smile plastered on his lips, something sincere and intimate, very much different from his usual bright and outgoing expressions. They stay like that for a few moments, until Stiles is getting up, looking down at Derek.

  “I’ll go home now. See you tomorrow?”

  And then Derek is getting up too, nearly knocking the chair down on his rush to look at ease with Stiles leaving. He fails majestically, but decides to ignore it.

  Decides to just nod, mutter ‘bye’, and watch Stiles turn around and go.

  Only he doesn’t, only he’s coming _closer,_ lips pressing gently on Derek’s own, no rush to it, no desperation.

  “Bye, Derek.” He whispers against Derek’s lips.

  Derek feels like a twelve year old, maybe, because just Stiles whispering against his lips already makes him feel hot inside. And outside. Everywhere.

  The heat leaves him, though, along with Stiles’ body, that is now directing itself to the front door, where it stops, when Stiles waves a hand awkwardly in Derek’s direction, who waves back, equally awkward.

  When Stiles leaves, Derek thinks about the talk they just had.

  What the fuck was going through their heads when they took that decision? Jesus. It made so much sense when Stiles was here.

  _Well, we’ll have to remain faithful to our decision now._ Derek thinks. _Such a hard job._

  He goes to bed feeling light and heavy at the same time, feeling good but terrible. Still trying to figure out what it is he’s doing with his life. Stiles is trouble, he should’ve known.

 

✦

 

  So, they kiss. Once when Stiles arrives to work, once when he leaves. Several times during the day. When Derek is baking, and Stiles is bored. When both their girlfriends are doing something else and can’t give them any attention.

  And if once or twice Stiles spends the night after they drank more than their systems can cope with, they don’t actually talk about it.

  Don’t talk about the time when they sneaked out the Christmas party at the sheriff’s house to kiss for some time.

  They also don’t talk about the handjobs in the shower after new year's party.

  Or about that one time when Malia and Braeden went to the same party with Alisson, leaving them alone in a Saturday night.

  It’s like any of that happened, really.

  Except it did, and Derek is feels _so_ bad about it, but doesn’t tell anyone. Hides his feelings like he’s always done, doesn’t talk about it even with Cora, the only person he’s always trusted with his whole heart. But he knows even she will judge him. _Specially_ her, that has the inclination to say everything that comes to mind.

  They’ve been doing this for almost three months now. And Derek knows, he _knows,_ they should stop it, get it out of their organisms as soon as possible, but it’s too good to let go.

  And if Stiles comes over this afternoon as he promised - to help Derek bake the birthday cake Danny asked for -, Derek won’t stop himself from doing what he wants to do.  

  At this point, he is just slightly worried about Braeden finding out. She’s been paying him so litte attention these days, trying so hard to get herself a promotion (if she makes it, also taking Parrish’s job inside the station), that a world where she realizes anything is unlikely.

  Derek just decides to take a shower, jerk off, maybe.

  When he does, he tries his very hardest to think about Braeden, complying for about three seconds.

  Then Stiles’ image crosses his mind, and decides to never leave. Just Stiles. Stiles laying underneath Derek, naked. Stiles on the shower, hair wet falling on his forehead, eyes closed, palms against the wall as Derek takes both of them in his large hand. Stiles' head falling back against Dereks shoulder, as Derek jerks him off from behind.

  All images that actually happened, that are then replaced by new ones, that come from Derek’s imagination.

  Stiles arching his back as Derek fucks him, or Stiles’ pretty mouth open around Derek’s dick, full lips stretched.

  Things that they haven’t done yet, but Derek hopes, hopes _so_ hard they will. For now, he just gets off to those images. 

  When he comes, the wave of pleasure makes his eyes close and pushes a soft noise out of his mouth, more breath than anything else.

  The water cleans off every possible evidence, and then he goes on with the shower, washing his body and face.

  While drying his body, he tries not to think about how he’d done that same thing several times right after hiring Stiles, not stopping until he met Braeden, half a year later.

  Except back then he didn’t know how much of a good kisser Stiles is. Didn’t know how useful his long fingers can be when they're closing around his dick, or pulling his hair.

  Also, back then neither of them had girlfriends. Why didn’t they start all this two years ago? Before Derek met Braeden, and Stiles met Malia, and everything became extremely complicated?

  Everything could be so simple now, so _easy_.

  He thinks he might have figured it out, though. Why they didn’t do this back then.

  _Two years ago, Stiles and I didn’t get stupidly drunk together._  

 

✦

 

  “Get me the eggs.”

  Derek listens to Stiles’ steps as he walks over to where the eggs are, returning with the box in is hands and handing it to Derek, then resting his body against the table.

  When he looks at Stiles, he realizes he’s probably waiting for further instructions. Because Stiles can’t bake, and has absolutely no idea of what Derek is doing, or if he’s gonna need help or not.

  He looks at his work again, hiding the tiny smile (because Stiles is so cute, who could blame him for being silly?).

  Derek focuses on the cake, taking his time to finish it, then placing it on the oven, setting up the timer and temperature.

  “Now we wait.” He says as he turns back to Stiles.

  “How long?” Stiles asks, getting closer, looking like he already has an idea as to what they’re going to do with that time.

  “About forty minutes.” Derek answers. “Plenty of time.”

  Stiles just hums, getting even closer in small steps, until he’s only, like, two inches away.

  The next second they’re kissing. It’s a rough, desperate kiss, like they can’t get enough of each other. Maybe they can’t.

  Stiles turns them around and backs Derek off against the table, the same table they had been pressed against the first time they did this. Whatever _this_ is.

  Then his hands are on Derek’s shoulders, and this is new, Derek thinks. Stiles’ hands usually travel straight to his waist. That’s when he realizes it would be so easy to pick Stiles up like this.

  So that’s what he does. Just puts his hands on the back of Stiles’ thighs, seizes him up, making his legs close around the back of Derek’s own desperately.

  Then Stiles is breaking the kiss, looking down at Derek, and he wonders if he’s gone too far.

  It’s not like there’s a manual that says _Don’t pick up your best friend, whom you’ve been  cheating on your girlfriend with. This is stuff that actual couples do._

  Apparently, Stiles doesn’t seem put off by that. Actually, he looks kind of amused and very horny. What Derek feels against his stomach is confirmation to the latter.

  “This.” Stiles says, “This is nice.”

  _Thank God_. Derek's already shitting too much on his life lately, it's not like he need Stiles to be angry with him too.

  Stiles' fingers trace down Derek’s shoulders to his biceps, and Derek wonders if the feeling of his muscles flexed as he carries Stiles is something Stiles enjoys.

  He doesn’t have the time to ask – doesn’t even know if he _could_ ask -, because Stiles’ mouth is back on his, his hands moving to tug Derek’s hair roughly, and _fuck_ , Derek didn’t even know he liked this, not until now. Maybe he _doesn’t_ like this, unless Stiles is the one doing it.

  They break the kiss for about five seconds, just the right time for Derek to ask _‘bed?’_ and for Stiles to nod shortly in response, resuming the kiss right after.

  It takes all of Derek’s concentration to walk and kiss at the same time, but they make it to the bedroom with no big wounds.

  Derek lays Stiles on his bed carefully, as if his body is made of porcelain. Stiles might actually _be_ made of porcelain.

  He might be creepily staring a little bit, because Stiles looks so cute, so freaking cute, but at the same time so hot, so he decides to get on with it.

  Derek takes no time to take Stiles’ stupid useless shorts off, along with his equally stupid boxers, throwing both to the ground, then standing beside the bed to take his own clothes off.

  When he’s naked and turns to look at Stiles again, what he sees is a very  hot guy completely naked on _his_ bed, holding a shirt in one of his hands, then turning his body to put it down on the mattress.

  Derek looks at him for a few moments, the way his waist is very slim, legs so pale but still attractive (at least to Derek), the defined edges of his bones. Derek can’t help but to palm himself a little bit, not enough to have the pleasure he needs, but, well. Still good.

  Derek realizes he’s naked, standing right besides the bed, _exposed_ , realizes that still doesn’t make him uncomfortable, because it’s _Stiles._

  Stiles, who’s opening his mouth to say something, and then giving up right after, closing it again. Stiles, who’s been Derek’s crush since the moment he walked in to try out for the job.

  It’s not like Derek is in love with him. Of course not. He’s in love with Braeden.

  He shakes it off his mind, kneels on the bed, kind of crawling back to Stiles, stopping between his spread legs, placing one hand on the mattress besides Stiles’ stomach, and the other around Stiles’ cock.

  Stiles sighs, closes his eyes as Derek shifts his hand, running it up and down his length slowly, teasingly.

  “Faster.” He whispers, and Derek complies, moves his hand faster, rougher, using his thumb over the head of Stiles’ cock, once in a while.

  Derek keeps his pace steady, bending down to bite Stiles’ neck, not very hard, then going back to his position where he can watch Stiles’ face; his brow is furrowed, mouth slightly open, eyes closed.

  When Stiles comes, his back arches in a way that makes Derek want to touch his own cock, but he doesn’t, instead concentrates on keep his hand moving up and down Stiles’, until he notices he can’t take it anymore, that he’s finished.

  He waits for Stiles to come down, kneels once again on the mattress, closes his eyes, _finally_ closes his own hand around his cock, until he listens to Stiles moving, and then Stiles is slapping his hand, replacing it with his own.

  Derek feels lips on his, and Stiles is kissing him at the same time he’s running his hand up and down Derek’s dick, tongue exploring Derek’s mouth happily.

  Only then Derek can’t keep up with the kiss anymore, has to get closer to Stiles’ body and find support in it, his hands on Stiles’ shoulders as he fucks into his fist, hiding his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck as he feel soft, low noises coming out of his mouth.

  It’s like Derek can feel sparks running down his back, his arms. All his blood has ran south, and he can’t think about anything else other than Stiles, Stiles, _Stiles,_ how good he is with his hands.

  Then he thinks about how good Stiles might be with his _mouth_ , the same images from his showers coming back, Stiles giving him head enthusiastically, and that’s it for him, he’s coming on Stiles’ stomach and hand, letting a embarrassingly loud moan leave his mouth.

  He shakes and collapses against Stiles’ body, kisses him until he can’t feel the sparks anymore, until his body is already cooling down, trying to say _thank you_ , because he can’t gather the strength to actually say it now.

  When they both break the kiss, Derek decides he needs to clean Stiles’ stomach, and gets up from the bed to get a wet towel from the bathroom.

   Only when he comes back, he faces Stiles cleaning his come with his fingers, than licking it off, and it’s too hot, so hot Derek almost gets hard again just from watching.

  He cleans Stiles’ stomach anyways, just to make sure it doesn’t get uncomfortably sticky.

  “So.” Stiles says, after he’s already dressed again. “Do you need help decorating Danny’s cake?”

  “Oh. Fuck. The cake.”

 

✦

 

  Danny’s birthday party has Melissa McCall's house filled with people. By now, they've made it an habit to have parties at Melissa's house, because basically everyone else lives in small apartments. Except for Sheriff Stilinski, of course, because he lives with her. (He still remembers how happy Stiles and Scott had been when their dad and mom decided to get married. Like, pretty fucking happy.)

  Anyways, the house is full, because Danny invited everyone. Which happens to be pretty weird for Scott, Derek notices, because both his ex and girlfriend are present. _And_ talking to each other.

  He sends Stiles a look that says ‘help me’ from across the room, while Allison and Kira talk to each other right in front of him.

  Meanwhile, Derek and Stiles keep as much distance from each other as the living room allows them to, paying attention to their respective girlfriends, not even looking at each other.

  Derek realizes about two hours later that they must look very odd to everyone else, because it’s to expect that best friends would talk to each other at a party. Right?

  They look like they had a fight, or something. Derek can’t allow anyone to think something happened between them, not even a fight.

  So he talks to Danny and Jackson for a while, keeps his hand on Braeden’s thigh so she doesn’t notice anything different on him. When he sees the opportunity, he gets up and joins Stiles’, Malia’s and Sheriff Stilinski’s conversation, leaves Braeden talking to Danny and Jackson.

  It makes his blood rush. He knows that neither of them can read his mind, or Stiles’ mind (he just _knows_ Stiles must be thinking about it too), but still gets kind of frozen, imagines a dozen situations that would be completely impossible.

  All of them end up in disasters. At least the kind of disaster that could happen here.

  When he starts talking, standing right beside Stiles, he gets a look of pure panic, but then Stiles seems to realize what Derek’s doing, because his face goes back to normal, and he starts talking just as loudly and excitedly as before.

  “So, Sheriff, I heard my girlfriend over there is working pretty hard for a promotion.”

  Derek points at Braeden, where she’s still sitting talking to Danny. Jackson is gone now – probably getting some beer.

  “Yeah, well, Derek. She _is_ working really hard, but it’s a tough decision.” The Sheriff answers, calmly. “Because, you know, I can’t just take Parrish out of his position.”

  “Yeah, Derek, your girlfriend is not the only one that works hard to keep the population safe.” Stiles adds, a smug grin on his face.

   “I understand.” Derek says, nodding, giving Stiles a look.

   He’s starting to think that maybe joining a conversation in which Stiles participates was a bad idea. Huge mistake, because 1) he has to look at Stiles, at how his white shirt clings perfectly to his body and 2) he can’t touch.

  So, well, horrible idea.

  He excuses himself to get some beer in the kitchen, because this party is _so_ confusing to him. At the same time he wants to get all over Stiles right now, he admires the way Braeden looks very fucking hot in her black dress, and he can't decide which one he wants more. He wonders if Stiles feels the same way.

  Derek drinks faster when he realizes that he actually _does_ know which one he wants more. And it's Stiles, who' must definitely  _not_ his girlfriend.

  He thinks maybe he doesn’t want to date Braeden anymore. Thinks about how waking up by her side sometimes is not the best thing ever anymore.

  Ultimately, he thinks about how she never helps him bake anything, or makes him coffee, or makes him laugh.

  He thinks about how Stiles does all of that.

  It’s a very scary line of thoughts, so he decides to return to the living room, where there’s plenty of people to distract him.

 

✦

 

  “Derek.” Stiles whispers behind him, and Derek turns around, just a little.

  Everyone is eating cake on the kitchen. The cake he baked, and everyone likes it, or at least seems to like it, by the way they’re eating it, so he's very happy. Also because Melissa, Allison and Lydia congratulated him on being ‘such a good baker’ and ‘doing his job better than anyone else they’ve ever met’.

  He turns to look at Stiles, faces brown big eyes staring into his, gets lost in them for a second.

  “Can we slip out for just a little?”

  Derek knows it’s a bad idea. Terrible, _horrible_ idea. Their girlfriends are here, _everyone_ is here, and slipping out for just a little could ruin basically a lot of social relations they keep. Still.

   Still, he decides to follow Stiles’ steps towards the back door. He leaves the rest of his cake on top of some piece of furniture, placed under a mirror hanging on the wall.

  When he looks at it, he sees someone looking very anxious. So he obliges himself to calm the fuck down, because he’s not going to the back of Melissa’s house to do God knows what his best friend.

  They’re just going to take some air. Yes.

  By the time Stiles opens the door and gets out, Derek has calmed down, probably looks much more chilled now. He hopes. Also, he’s given up on trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want to do anything unbelievably stupid.

  Because, oh, he does. Has been wanting to since the moment he got here and saw Stiles wearing that shirt. He wants to rip that fucking shirt to threads. (Derek wouldn’t do that, though, because that would mean Stiles could never wear it again, so.)

  Stiles walks towards a tree in the backyard, rests his back against it, stretches one hand in the air in Derek's direction, who’s frozen a few steps away.

  Derek just takes his hand, stumbles into Stiles’ touch, closes his arms around Stiles’ waist.

  Stiles’ own hands are cupping his face. God, it’s so cute, Derek’s going to die, probably.

  Stiles starts with little pecks on Derek’s lips, then moves to kiss his whole face, gently.

  “You look so good today.” He says, between kisses, once his lips have returned to Derek’s. “Everyday, really, but today specially.”

  “I was thinking the same about you.”

  Stiles smiles against his lips, starts properly kissing Derek now.

  Which, yeah, Derek is okay with it.

  Derek sighs when Stiles bites his lower lip, feels Stiles’ thumbs caress his face, as if he likes to feel Derek’s stubble. Maybe he does.

  Stiles then lets go of his mouth, moves one of his hands to press kisses on his cheek, all the way to his ear, then on his neck.

  He feels little bites there, moves his head a bit so Stiles can bite more, and more. He wants more. Stiles might be able to read his mind, because he bites rather hard, just once.

  Then his body freezes against Derek’s.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek whispers, turns around to look at whatever it is that makes Stiles’ eyes go wide, makes his mouth fall open.

  That’s when he sees Malia there, right behind them. Standing still with a hand over her mouth, eyes just as wide as Stiles, full of tears. He lets her hand fall down beside her body, grips her purse tighter.

  She’s breathing fast, and Derek’s not breathing, not breathing at all, and he feels as though Stiles isn’t breathing as well.

  Then he realizes he still has his hands on Stiles, and thinks about moving them, taking them off his body fast, but his body doesn’t respond.

  It doesn’t need to, though, because the next moment Malia is turning around, starts walking quickly, feet craving on the ground as if she wants to hurt it. Then, Stiles pushes him away, literally _pushes,_ and goes after her.

  Derek stands there, alone, thinking about just how fucked he is. Both of them.

  Thinking about how it hurts a little bit that Stiles just left him there to run after her, and he _knows_ it makes sense, because she's his girlfriend, and Derek is nothing but his friend.

   He gets it, but it still hurts.

   Passing his hand through his hair, he thinks about how differently he has come to think about Stiles after these last three months.

   It feels as if he is in _love_ with Stiles, what with the way he thinks about him all the time, finds everything he does absolutely endearing and adorable. But he still feels the same way about Braeden, and fuck, this shit is confusing.

  He’s not sure if he is in actual love with both of them. But he _is_ sure that he’s fucked in every way.

   So he just returns to the house, tries not to think about it. Places himself besides Braeden, talks to Allison, Lydia and Aiden as much as he can. Distractions, yes, good.

  Still, he spends every second thinking about what Stiles must be doing right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity is a good thing, right?  
> (Also, if anyone's wondering, Danny's birthday is on February 9th - at least that's what I saw online. They've been doing this since December. Therefore, almost three months.)


	3. III

**III.**

 

"Malia! Please, listen!"

  She keeps on walking, her pace fast, as Stiles runs after her. He stands his hand to grip her arm, but then decides it's better not to. She'd probably break his hand if he did, or something just as dangerous (for him) as that.

  When she stops by her car and turns to look at him, Stiles notices her eyes are full of tears, but her face shows that scary expression she has on whenever she's mad, and Stiles wonders how, how can she look scary and sad at the same time? 

  Her hand closes around the door knob, and she stares at him for one more second before talking.

  "What, Stiles? What is it you want to tell me so much? That you've been cheating on me? Guess what?  _I already know!_ " She clicks the button on her other hand and opens the door, looks like she's leaving right now, and Stiles knows there's nothing he could tell her, but still, he reaches his hand out in a gesture that says  _please, don't go yet_. 

  "Malia, look, I know I fucked up, I know this is over. Just, please, don't tell Braeden?"

  "What? Are you  _seriously_ asking me not to tell your boyfriend's girlfriend about this?" She looks even more furious now, like she can break him in two halves.

  Stiles just nods, because he knows he shouldn't have said that, but it's a situation that gets him nervous, right, and this kind of situation always makes him say stupid shit. Also, he feels like he can't breathe a little bit, because Malia lets go of the door and gets closer to him, looking freaking terrifying.

  "You know what, Stiles? I won't tell anyone, because I don't want people to know that _you_ , skinny, weird guy that failed at college cheated on _me._ I regret dating you, regret the day I met you, because since then my life has turned into hell. I need to focus on my degree and later my carreer and no boyfriend should stop me. Specially a failure like you. Oh, and, you can go home with someone else, right? Derek, maybe?"

  Then she turns around and gets inside the car, and Stiles just watches her leave, standing in the sidewalk. Thinking about what she just said, how she _knows_ that he didn't fail college, he just didn't have any money for it. But still,  _still,_ the words hurt, because that's what it must look like to other people, right? 

  To her friends, and he thinks about everytime he went out with her college friends, and how they seemed so much better than him, the guy who just works at a coffee shop, and how when he'd told Malia his thoughts, she just said _'they're not better than you, Stiles',_ which, yeah, now he knows she didn't mean it.

  He decides he needs to stop thinking about all that, or at least try to, needs to go back to Melissa's house, face everyone else.

 

✦

 

  He stops right by the front door stairs, watches as Braeden and Allison leave together. He looks around the street and notices everyone else already left, and then back at the stairs, where Derek, Scott, Kira, Melissa and his dad are standing.

  "Stiles, where were you?" Scott asks, looking worried.

  Stiles just shakes his head, turns to Derek and asks him for a ride. Derek just nods, and they jump to goodbyes.

  "Did Malia leave?" His dad asks after they hug, and Stiles nods. "What happened?"

  "She broke up with me."

  The Sheriff just nods and hugs him again, pats his back.

  Stiles finds himself more than relieved when he's finally alone inside the car. Well, with Derek, but Derek doesn't say anything, just drives and glances at Stiles once in a while.

  When they get to Stiles' building, Derek turns off the car, looks at him with that worried protective expression he puts on sometimes. 

  "You want me to come up with you?"

  Stiles just nods. He doesn't, he wants to be alone, but he knows Derek wants to help, knows Derek probably  _will_ help, so.

  They walk inside the apartment, and Stiles goes straight for the couch, sits down, places his elbows on his knees, his face on his hands. He feels a warm hand on his back, just laying there, like Derek wants him to know that he's here, right by Stiles' side, being the good friend he's always been.

  _Friend,_ Stiles thinks,  _like I didn't fuck up that too._

He must look pretty miserable, because Derek pulls him into his lap, makes Stiles' legs fall by his sides and Stiles' arms hook around his neck, as he holds Stiles' waist tightly.

  "You want to talk about it?" Derek asks, and Stiles just shakes his head.

  Then Derek kisses his forehead, just kisses it. Like couples do, but, no, they're not a couple, they're best friends,  _best friends_ only, and Derek has a girlfriend, probably doesn't even like Stiles all that much. Stiles is just a replacement for the girlfriend that is now working so hard she can't give Derek any attention. That's it, really. Still, Stiles' blood rushes to his face, and he stops for a moment to think about how much he's been thinking about Derek lately. 

  Stiles realizes that maybe it's better that he's not with Malia anymore. Of course, he's gonna miss her, but his heart isn't even hers anymore. He should've done something about all this earlier. Oh, well.

  He can't let himself think about Derek as more than a friend, though. Because Stiles might be falling in love with him at a fast pace, but Derek didn't sign up for that, so. 

  "I want to... do something. To make you feel better." Derek interrupts his thoughts, and Stiles just looks at him, wonders what the hell it is Derek wants to do with him. It could be anything.

  He trusts Derek, though, so he just nods and unhooks his arms from Derek's neck, gets up, goes straight for the bedroom. After a few seconds, he hears Derek's steps behind him, and then two strongs hands are on his hips, Derek's body sprawled against his very closely.

 

✦

 

  "Derek, what are you going to do?" 

  It's probably the fifth time he's asking, but Derek keeps on ignoring him. Instead, he focuses on taking his clothes off, watches Stiles naked on the bed sometimes.

  Stiles whines. He's hard, impatient and curious, and the waiting in killing him.

  When Derek is completely naked, he sits on the mattress, looks at Stiles for a second before asking softly, "Do you have lube?"

  Stiles wonders why would Derek need lube, because there are like, a dozen things he could do with it, but he doesn't ask, because he knows Derek won't tell him. He just stretches on the bed to reach for the nightstand, gathers lube from the first drawer and returns to his position, laying on his back with his legs open carelessly. 

  He tosses the bottle to Derek, waits and waits and antecipation is boiling on his blood, and it's destroying him, Jesus. Derek eyes his body several times before looking at his face again, mutters something Stiles doesn't catch, then gets closer slowly, crawls until he's on top of Stiles, holding his body up on his arms.

  Stiles thinks that maybe Derek's biceps were sculpted by an angel, maybe by God himself, because it's just impossible someone has muscles like that, really. But Derek altogether is impossible, so Stiles doesn't hold the thought for too long.

  He can't suppress the need to kiss Derek, tongue and bites and everything, because he needs to get his mind out of here, where he keeps thinking about how fuckep up he is, because he wants more, wants to go out together and hold hands and kiss in public, wants to tell his dad and everyone else, but he can't. So he focuses his attention on sex.

  But then Derek stops the kiss, and Stiles is about to complain, when he sees Derek's arm reach for the lube and put it right beside them. And then Derek is kissing his neck, collarbones, stomach, _everywhere._ When he gets very close to Stiles' cock, he stops, has Stiles looking down at him to see what he's doing next. 

  And Derek fucking licks his dick. Stiles just throws his head back in the mattress because if he watches this, it's gonna be over  _very_ fast. _  
_

He's always dreamed about Derek giving him a blowjob, so, now that's it's happening, he's pretty much about to have a heart attack.

  Except it _isn't_ happening, it seems, because Derek's mouth is gone, and Stiles is ready to fight him for being such a tease, when, well. When he realizes there's a hot wet tongue in his ass, and oh, that's okay then.

  Derek licks teasingly once again, then sticks the tip of his tongue inside Stiles, flicks it, fucks Stiles with it, and it's making him crazy, has this tiny moans to come out of his mouth. 

  Derek slips more of his tongue in, fucks him more intently now, holds Stiles’ thighs on his hands to keep him still.

  Stiles’ body feels hot all over, and he has to cover his face with his hands because it’s too much, but still not enough to give him what he needs. At least not until Derek’s tongue hits him exactly where it needs to, and Stiles moans, feels his legs shake just a little and it’s just so overwhelming. So good.

  Then Derek just stops, withdraws his tongue.

  Stiles uncovers his face, raises his body a little bit so he can watch what the fuck it is that Derek is doing. He faces Derek opening the lube, so whatever he was going to say dies on his throat.

  “So, this is what I’m doing.” Derek says, as he coats his fingers on lube.

  “Okay.”

  The next thing he knows there’s the wet slick of lube against his ass, Derek’s finger circling the rim slowly. He takes a deep breath, tries to stop thinking about how Derek seems so experience on everything he does.

  Derek’s finger slips in fully, and Stiles sighs, grips the sheets weakly, just to have something to hold on to. He looks down at Derek, watches his arm move as he twists his wrist, moves his finger inside Stiles slowly. When Derek pushes a second finger in and starts scissoring them intently, Stiles’ breath hitches on his throat, and his grip on the sheets tightens.

  Then he feels a flash of heat through his whole body, down his spine and fingertips and _everywhere,_ when Derek’s fingers press right where Stiles needs them to.

  He’s already moaning and panting and arching his back off the mattress a little bit everytime Derek’s fingers shift inside of him, but Derek wants him completely ruined, it seems, because he just closes his heavenly mouth around Stiles’ dick.

  Stiles is just mildly worried about how uncomfortable the position in which Derek is must be. Just mildly. He’s just human, can’t be worrying about this kind of shit right now, not when he’s dying.

  Derek sucks his cock _and_ fingers him, in a way and pace that has Stiles closer and closer to the edge, to the point where he feels his stomach _burn_ , so he just whispers a raspy “Derek”, because he wants Derek to know, in case he doesn’t want any come on his mouth. Also because Derek’s name feels perfect on his tongue in this occasion.

  That only makes Derek work harder, left hand gripping Stiles’ hip strongly to keep him in place.

  Then Stiles is coming, so hard he can’t breathe, can’t see, or function, just moan Derek’s name once again, loudly. Embarrassingly loudly, maybe, for what they have, because they’re just best friends. Are best friends supposed to moan each other’s names loudly? He doesn’t think so. Well, whatever.

  After he’s done, his breath is coming out in hard pants, and he feels Derek’s fingers and mouth leave him, feels Derek sit down by his side, gathering the little amount of come that landed on Stiles’ stomach, and, by the sound, sucking it off his finger.

  “Stiles?”

  “Hm?” He answers, opening his eyes, looking at a very hard Derek.

  “Can I come on your mouth?”

  Stiles is just a little bit surprised. He didn’t really think Derek would be someone who likes this sort of thing. He didn’t really think about what would Derek like at all, because he always thought they’d never go further than handjobs and kisses.

   But he figures he can do that, yes. So he nods, opens his mouth and closes his eyes, hopes Derek doesn’t think he looks weird like that, or something.

   Derek doesn’t hate it, apparently, because he just sits on Stiles’ chest, each leg in one side, and Stiles has to open his eyes to watch him jerk off, because, well, it’s _Derek,_ and he looks good all the time, but doing something like this? Stiles can’t miss it.

   So he keeps his mouth open and watches as Derek moves his hand, fast, rough, hot. And then Derek’s coming, some of his come landing on Stiles’ cheek and chin, but mostly on his mouth, and he swallows, watches as Derek’s body shakes and he moans as he looks at Stiles, like it’s something he’s always wanted to see.

  “Wow.” Derek breathes, still sitting on his chest. “Didn’t think you’d let me do that.”

   Stiles just laughs, pats Derek’s thigh to make him move. Derek just lays down besides him, looks at Stiles, breathes deeply.

   _I’m kind of very in love with you,_ Stiles wants to say, _Have been for a little while now._

Of course, he doesn’t say that, but he realizes he’s finally done denying it. Maybe breaking up with Malia wasn’t that bad, maybe he needed it. Now he can finally tell himself how fucked he _really_ is. Awesome.

  “I don’t think we made a big mess of the sheets. No mess at all, actually. We’re good, c’mon, sleep. You can go tomorrow.”

  Derek helps him move the duvet, and as they get under it, Stiles wonders if he should get closer to Derek, cuddle, maybe.

  But he watches Derek turn his back on him, which, yeah, disappointing. Stiles has to remind himself they’re not a couple.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've finally finished it, after a lot of procrastination. So I'm sorry for the quality of this one (below zero).


	4. IV

  Derek doesn’t sleep. He mostly just turns around in bed all night, taking 10-minutes-long naps, until the sun’s already up. There’s enough light glimmering through the window for him to see Stiles’ face. Maybe he’s kind creepy, or very creepy. But really, Stiles is just so cute. And that’s his biggest problem right now.  
Everything Stiles does is cute and endearing, makes Derek’s heart sink to his stomach, makes him sigh and want to cry.  
Derek’s been trying really hard not to let himself think about Stiles, or even spend too much time with him, or talk about him with someone, but he’s slipping, and it’s not good. Stiles doesn’t want anything romantic with him, and he has a freaking girlfriend, dammit. Derek’s trying not to mess up – more than he already did -, by not letting himself fall in love with Stiles. It’s not working, though. He’s pretty sure he’s already in love

  So after a whole night of thinking, he’s come to the conclusion that he is most probably in love, and that he just has to ignore it. Nothing’s going to happen between the two of them, besides what already happened. Yeah, he’s going to ignore it, go with the flow, stop overthinking every action and step they take.

   “Morning.” Stiles draws him out of his thoughts. When Derek looks at him, he’s yawning, scratching one eye, and then turning to look at Derek. “Coffee?”

  Derek just nods, watches Stiles for one more moment, before sitting on the bed. It’s a giant effort to get up, but he does, eventually, even though his entire body hurts and he wants his bed, needs his bed, and his eyes are closing.

  He gathers his clothes from the floor, puts his boxers on and then his shirt, leaving the pants behind, and then goes to the kitchen.

  He makes them coffee, definitely does not think about what they’re doing, or Braeden, or anything related to that. He doesn’t. Just returns to the bedroom with a mug on each hand.

  He walks in the bedroom to find a very asleep Stiles, turned on his side with his legs curled around the sheets, face half-hidden by the pillow. Derek sits on the bed right beside him, lays both mugs on the nighstand. How is he supposed to wake Stiles? If he’s too warm and nice, it’s too much for what they have, and if he’s like the way he was before all this, it’s too rude, and he doesn’t want to be rude.

  Don’t overthink, go with the flow.

  So he does, just lets his left hand stroke Stiles’ hair gently, while his right hand lays on his cheek. He whispers a low ‘Stiles’, and is rewarded with a grunt, and Stiles’ hand on top of his, like he wants Derek to keep touching him, but doesn’t want to wake up.

  “Wake up, I made us coffee.”

  Stiles doesn’t care, though, just breathes in deeply, so Derek bows down on top of him, careful not to lay his weight on Stiles, and presses his lips on Stiles’ own, awkwardly.

  Then he keeps on pecking his lips, until Stiles turns his head and kisses him, pushes him off his body, keeping just their lips together. They’re now sitting on the bed, each of them turned to on side, and kissing ardently. Well, as ardently as they can at eight in the morning.

  “Coffee.” Derek mutters into Stiles’ mouth, getting a laugh into his lips, before Stiles kisses them again and backs off, turning to get their mugs.

  They drink the coffee silently, and then Stiles gets up to take the mugs to the kitchen.

  Derek dresses up fully and gathers his wallet and phone, ready to leave.

  “You going already?” He just nods, and Stiles comes closer and kisses him again. “Thanks for being here for me. After what happened, I mean.”

  Derek feels his throat close, not sure what to answer. Would ‘Of course I’ll be here when your girlfriend breaks up with you’ be good? He’s not sure, so he just nods again, kisses Stiles and leaves, pretending everything’s fine.

 

✦ 

  

  "I'm coming over tomorrow night." Braeden says on the phone.

  "Okay." Derek answers, and they go on with small talk until both of them decide to hang up. Derek's not sure as to what he's going to do when she does come over, because he's pretty sure she'll want to have sex, and he just  _can't_.

  Talking, watching movies, playing a videogame, maybe? Awesome, cool. Kissing, having sex or even hugging? Nope. He just feels like he can't do anything with Braeden that resembles what's he's done with Stiles. Sure, until about a month ago, he was having sex with  _both_ of them. Now, he's sure he can't do that. For one, it's just being too much of a jerk, and also, it feels like nothing he does with Braeden feels as good as with Stiles. So, yeah, he just doesn't know what he's going to do. Derek can't just break up with her.

  He stays behind the counter all day, distracts himself until the shop is closing, and every customer's already left. Derek really, really needs to take a hot shower, so he leaves Allison to close everything and finish the cleaning, and goes upstairs. When he gets to his living room, he locks the door behind him and starts taking his clothes off right away.

  And then his phone buzzes on the dresser's top, where he left it. When he picks it up, there's a message from Stiles.

 

   _can i come over?_

 

 Derek considers the idea. If Stiles does come over, they'll probably do something very regrettable once again. Well, at least for Derek, because Stiles is single and can do whatever the fuck he wants. Also, they've been spending too much time together lately. Baking the cake, then the party, then Derek staying over, and now at the end of the day again? 

  Still, Derek kind of wants to hang out with Stiles. They're friends after all, right? And friends spend time together. So he makes a horrible decision, and answers right after that.

 

  _course, ill_ _leave the door open, youll have to bring ur key to the shop tho_  

 

  All he gets is a smiley face along with a thumbs-up emoji, so he puts the phone on top of the dresser once again, and then returns to the living room to unlock the door. Only then he goes for his well-deserved shower.

  Halfway through his well-deserved shower, he hears the bathroom door opening, and when he turns around, there's Stiles sitting on his toilet, with the lid down. His image is muddled, countours lost on the steam of the shower, but Derek can still see his messed hair and long legs. Stiles just waves him a hand, and Derek waves back, not sure that Stiles can actually see the action. Because he's mostly looking at Derek's body. So Derek turns his back on Stiles, facing the shower wall, trying to focus on washing his body. 

  At some point, Stiles gets up and leaves.

  When Derek finishes, he just puts on some boxers, and wanders around looking for Stiles. He finds him laying on the couch, watching Cake Boss. Which is one of Derek's favorite shows, what with how he loves baking, so he joins Stiles, sits on the floor right in front of him.

  Then he feels Stiles' hand on his hair, as they watch the show. It's a really nice cake, and he tries to concentrate on it, but Stiles is too distracting, and he can't. Then Stiles pulls one of his hair strands, hardly.

  " _Stiles._ " He hisses. 

  Stiles just laughs and ignores him, kisses his cheek instead of apologizing.

 "Just wanted to catch your attention." Derek turns over to look at him, and he looks very serious, like there's something really important he wants to say. But he's probably not going to, because his mouth opens, and then closes. And if _Stiles_ doesn't know how to say something, it's probably a big deal.

  "Spill." Derek says, not letting his eyes leave Stiles' face, but Stiles just looks at him, that at his hand, that's still on Derek's hair. "Why aren't you spilling?" He asks after a few moments.

  Stiles sits on the couch, retracts his hand, and crosses his legs. It must be really serious. Then he stares at Derek, breathes in deeply.

  "Okay. Um. Well, I guess there's no way of saying it, like, without ruining everything. Like, more than I've already ruined stuff, you know, with all-" Derek gives him the look, and Stiles just stops, sighs and starts over. "Okay. I'm kind of... very much in love. With you, I mean. Like, I've been for a few weeks, maybe months, but I've just accepted that after, you know, Malia broke up with me. So. Yeah, that's what I can't keep hiding anymore. It was killing me. I feel better now, actually."

  Derek just stares at him for a few seconds, avoids breathing too hard. He feels like he's going to faint, probably. Stiles is in love with him. But. 

  But Stiles doesn't like him, Stiles just wants a friendly dude to let off some steam. Right? Well,  _wrong_ , apparently. 

  And what can Derek answer? He's not entirely sure, if he's _in love_ with Stiles or not. He knows that he's in love with his girlfriend, yes. And, well, is he really going to break up with her so he can be with Stiles? He'd rather not. He can't just ignore what Stiles just told him, but he'd really like to. Because not even one answer crosses his mind. Nothing, there's  _nothing_ he can tell Stiles right now. Even if he had words, he wouldn't be able to get them out, because his best friend just told him those words, and, well. Fuck.

  "You're not saying anything." Stiles looks disappointed, frustrated. 

  "I'm. Well. I'm not saying anything because, well. You know. I have a girlfriend. I can't be with you, Stiles." Derek says, gesturing with his hands, maybe a little too much. The seconds the words are out, he regrets them, but it's done, Stiles is already getting up from the couch, looking pissed off and also sad. Congratulations to me, Derek thinks. He could've been less rude, if he didn't have such a giant mouth on situations like this. 

  "Okay. I'm leaving." Stiles mutters, right by the door already. "I hope you understand that... I can't be around you anymore, because I have feelings, because I'm really  _fucking stupid,_ so. Obviously, I'm quitting my job. Good luck with your Cupcake Feast. Too bad I won't be here to see it this year."

  And then he's gone, just opens the front door and leaves, and Derek's just too lost to even do anything besides listening to his steps on the stairs. He covers his face with both hands, wonders what the fuck it is that he's doing.

 

✦

 

  The next day, he's got too much on his plate to even realize how sad he is, at least during his shift. When the night comes and he lays down the phone, stops working hard to make the best Cupcake Feast he can, like every year, that's when he notices that he really missed Stiles today. And that he broke his best friend's heart, and fuck, why did he do that? Damn it. He's so damn stupid. 

  When Braeden comes over, he's not in the mood for anything. Not even watching movies with her. So when she sits on his lap and kisses him, he pushes her off, lightly, no force behind it.

  She looks at him confusedly, and Derek decides he has to do this.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Braeden. I- you know, there's something I want to tell you."

  She eyes him for a couple moments, then gets up from his lap and stands in front of him, instead. "You're making me worried."

  "Yeah, well. I'm breaking up with you."

  "Oh." her whole face sinks, and Derek shouldn't have just said it, but it was killing him, and he's got zero time to worry about her right now, because he himself is already too fucked up. Her shoulders are down, and she just stares for a few seconds, before turning around, getting her purse and leaving. Just like that, no fighting, no questions, nothing. 

  It makes Derek wonder if he really was that important to her, because would she just accept it, if he were? 

   _Now it's done,_ he thinks. 

  So gets up from the couch and runs to his bedroom, gets his phone, takes the charger off the plug, and opens his texts. Opens Stiles' conversation, specifically.

 

   _i need to talk. forget everything i said, im sorry. please._

 

And then he waits, and waits, and waits. 

  The answer never comes.

 


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm sorry it took so much time for me to post this. it's just I'm really good at procrastinating.

**V.**

 

 It turns out that, in the last week, Derek has tried to reach Stiles only three times. Stiles never answered though, and then he gave up, apparently. The problem is, Derek's texts were all about how he wanted to talk to Stiles about what had happened, and fixing it. So, yeah, basically, Stiles knows that all Derek wanted to do was pity him, in person. Because Derek is such a good friend, he'd probably rub his back, make him coffee and say  _'it's okay you're in love with me',_ when they both know it's not okay.

  So that's why Stiles doesn't answer. He's focused on just going on with his life normally. Well, as much as he can, now that he has no job, and therefore nothing to do all day. He's been watching tv shows, mostly. Lots of tv shows. 

  After about eight days of tv shows and sleeping and not even trying to get a new job, Scott comes over. He'd texted Stiles asking what happened a few days before, and Stiles just said everything was okay, so he was expecting this, Scott showing up at his door with his worried puppy face. 

  "Please tell me you've showered at least once." Scott says, entering Stiles' shitty apartment, even though he wasn't invited. Not like he needs invitation. 

  " _Of course_ I have, who do you think I am?"

  "I think you're a very weird person that refuses to tell his best friend what's really going on." Oh, okay. That kind of shuts Stiles up. "And that does that conveniently after spending some months fucking his other best friend, and breaking up with his girlfriend for no apparent reason."

  Stiles just leaves him sitting on the couch, lets him be as comfortable as he wants, and goes to the kitchen to eat something. After all, it's one in the afternoon, and he hasn't eaten anything yet, so. Also, he really needs something filling his mouth so he can shut the fuck up and keep his stupid mouth from saying something he doesn't want to tell anyone. Like, everything, basically. He grabs a piece of a pizza he bought two nights ago, that doesn't taste good, but oh well. He hasn't done any groceries.

  When he returns to the living room, the tv is off and Scott is on his phone, texting. As soon as Stiles walks in and sits besides him, though, he drops the phone and tries again. "Are you gonna tell me anything at all? I have places to be."

  Stiles just waves at the door, like saying  _'do what you want'._ Which gets him a very annoyed look, but he just keeps on chewing his pizza anyway. 

  "I wasn't serious. Spill, now." 

  "Why do you care so much?"

  Scott gives him an incredulous look and slaps his arm. "Because I'm your friend, dumbass."

  Fair enough. Stiles feels like he's really gonna have to tell Scott everything. Not like he can keep his mouth shut for much longer than this, so he's probably gonna do it now. As in, when he finishes this horrible slice of pizza. 

  "Okay, so. Which one you want first? Malia or Derek?" All he gets is a shrug. "Malia, then. She caught us snogging."

  Scott stays silent for a while, just staring at Stiles. It's probably kind of shocking, so, understandable. Then he looks like he's absorving what Stiles just told him, so Stiles just leaves him to that, returns to the kitchen to wash his hands. He's followed by Scott, though, and when he turns his back to the sink, shutting the water, Scott's standing by the small table.

  "What do you mean, she caught you snogging?"

  "Well, remember Danny's birthday? We went to the back of the house, like the two very stupid little shits we are, and kissed, and that's when Malia showed up, and saw us. So she broke up with me, I felt like shit, brought Derek up here, we did some stuff you don't wanna know, probably. Then the day after I went to his house, and had this really dumb idea, like, the dumbest idea ever, and told him I'm in love with him. So, in a summary, last week I fucked up not only with my girlfriend, but also with my friend." He pauses for a second, still leaning against the sink. "There, told you everything." And then he just waits.

  "You." Scott starts, looking like he just doesn't know what to say. He probably doesn't. "You- you're so damn stupid, Stiles,  _my God._ "

  "I know." 

  "But, like. Didn't it occur to you that saying it would be weird?"

  Stiles shrugs, because, yes, it had occured to him, but for some unkown reason he still did it.

  "Okay. If that's why you're not leaving the house, stop it. You're going out with me right now, and we're ignoring what happened completely. Go change."

  "Where are we going?"

  Scott doesn't answer, just places his hands on Stiles' shoulders and pushes him towards the bedroom.

 

✦

 

  Danny's apartment is a real mess. There are clothes everywhere, bowls with old food laying on furniture, and Stiles can't stop himself from thinking about how neat-freak Derek would go crazy in a place like this. He's honestly surprised that Derek didn't show up just to clean the place yet. Then he remembers that, yeah, no thinking about Derek, who's currently working hard on his annual Cupcake Feast, Stiles' favorite day of the year, when it comes to the shop. But he's  _not_ thinking about Derek, so instead he thinks about how Danny is not like everyone thinks gay man are - a man that keep his place incredibly clean, neater than a girl's house.

  Whatever. They just watch tv and talk all afternoon, about nothing in special, as they wait for the night to come to go out. When the time finally comes, Stiles and Scott end up having to wait an hour for Danny to get dressed. So  _that_ thought about gay man really suits Danny. 

  Neither of his great friend tell him where they're going, but Stiles follows them anyway.

  It turns out they're going to a gay club, and he only realises that when they're already inside. He turns to look at Scott, throwing him a  _what the fuck_  look. Because really, what the fuck? 

  Scott comes closer, holds his shoulder with one hand and shouts on his ear over the music, "We're here to get you a really fucking hot guy."

  "I don't want a really fucking hot guy!" He shouts back.

  "I don't care!" Is his answer. "Look at that guy over there. He's hot enough right?"

  Scott's poiting to a actually very hot guy, but. Well. Not even half as hot as Derek, Stiles thinks. Still, since he's already here, and there's a hot guy looking at him, and he's not gonna have Derek ever again, what could go wrong, right?

  And then the guy's walking over to him, and  _oh fuck,_ Scott leaves him standing on the dance floor, and goes over to the bar with Danny. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  "Hi." Hot guy says, smiling, and hey, dimples. Nice.

  "Hey. I'm Stiles."

  "I'm William." So, William. Nice name, too. He's blonde and shorter than Stiles, with big blue eyes that suit his face perfectly.  _Beautiful,_ Stiles thinks, _but my type is more like tall and dark hair and green eyes._

They drink, and drink a little bit more, like they need alcohol to live. 

  Weirdly, Stiles doesn't regret having sex with him that night. 

 

 ✦

 

  He regrets it the day after, when William wakes him up while sneaking out, at eight in the morning.

  Stiles' been vomiting since then. Hangovers suck.

  When it finally stops, about two hours later, he drinks a fuckload of water and lays on the couch with a very warm and cozy blanket. It's all he wants right now, nap until he's rested and feeling better. 

  Except people don't  _want_ him to be rested and better, because his phone keeps on ringing and he's probably gonna kill someone today, if it keeps on ringing. He decides to get up and answer a few minutes later, walking around the house with his blanket on his shoulders like a cape. He feels majestic, and also like a little kid maybe.

  He's just a little surprised when he picks up the phone and it's Allison calling him. What does Allison want? Stiles hasn't talked to her in a week, because, well. He didn't go to the coffee shop again, not even to get his papers and last salary and shit.

  "Hi, Alli."

  "I already told you not to call me Alli." Oh, okay then. She's not happy today. Stiles is about to say sorry, when she keeps on talking. "Listen, I don't know what the hell happened between you and Derek."

  "Nothing happened." Stiles snaps.

  "Yeah, whatever you say. All I know is that he's been acting weirder than normal, like, he's shutting everyone out even more, if that's possible." _  
_

Stiles doesn't know what to answer. Is she calling him to ask for his help with Derek? Because if so, not gonna happen. And also, _why_ is Derek acting like that? He's the one that turned Stiles down, after all. He shouldn't be the one moping.

  "Still with me?"

  Stiles just hums. 

  "Right. What I'm saying is, this Saturday is the Cupcake Feast. And we're working hard on it. Think about it, Stiles, with you here doing this was already hard,  _without_ you is even worse. We're fucked."

  "Are you asking me to come and help?"

  There's a pause, and then, ''I don't wanna make things between you too awkward. Or more awkward. Can you come and help at least on Saturday? Please? You know it's gonna be hell. Please come and help on Saturday. You're probably not even seeing Derek then, because he's gonna be very busy, you know that."

  Stiles considers it. It's probably a horrible idea,  _definitely_ a horrible idea, something he shouldn't do. But still, it's so good, all those people in that tiny shop and everyone happy with their cupcakes, and Stiles knows he'll be sad if he misses it because of a stupid reason like that.

  "Okay." He gives in, gives up. "I'll be there on Saturday. Just, tell Derek, okay? So he won't be surprised, and if he knows he can hide from me if he wants, under a table or something."

  "You two are so weird. Honestly, I thought you were going to get some together now that you're both single. But thanks. Bye."

  Single? Wait, what? Derek's single?

  "Allison? Derek's single?" He asks, maybe a little bit too much desperately, and wonders if he shouldn't have asked it like that, with such hurry on his voice. Whatever, it's out now, nothing he can do. 

  He doesn't need to worry about any of that, though, because Allison's already hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if I could draw, I'd draw a cuddly Stiles with a blanket on his shoulders. sadly, I can't, so. thanks for reading!


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's kind of soon to post another one, but my tests week starts tomorrow, so it would probably take too long.

  Derek's running around the shop restlessly. There's so many people inside, and outside, that he's starting to think there might no be enough cupcakes for everyone.

  Allison is a great helper and brought Lydia and Jackson along. Extra hands are always good, no pun intended. Derek's never thought about Jackson wearing a apron, but he finds it to be a very nice view. And also really funny.

  The fact is, he's turned around looking for Stiles to help him three times already, and it's only been two hours. And the worst thing about it is that he's not even looking for someone to snog, but for his best friend, who's always there to help him out, no matter what. Because _Stiles_ is a good friend, unlike Derek.

  It sucks, but he can't keep on thinking about any of it, because there's about two hundred people to attend everywhere, so there's absolutely zero time for that shit.

  He's handing a strawberry cupcake to a young lady when he realizes there's someone right behind him, messing with something under the counter. When he turns around, there's Stiles, picking up an apron for himself and putting it on. Derek's too shocked to say anything. He's frozen still, still holding a cupcake that's ready to be decorated in one of his hands, and Stiles just gives him a look and a small nod, and goes to help Lydia with the cash, his usual position.

  So he decides to keep on working like nothing happened.

  "Derek, will you bring me a pack of six?" He hears Allison, who's selling outside the shop, just her head sticked inside.

  Derek goes to get the small box, but stops when a huge hand with long fingers grabs it first. He looks up to find Stiles holding the box, with a sheepish look on his face. Then he turns around and heads to the door, stands one hand to the outside to give Allison the box. Derek might be staring at his ass, a little, because he knows Stiles can't see him. Such a cute little ass.

  He's pretty sure he should be selling cupcakes right now, not looking at anyone's asses, especially Stiles', so that's what he does, fills his mind with people and his hands with money and enjoys having a great part of Beacon Hills complimenting his bakery skills.

 

✦

 

  When it's finally over, the shop is a mess, but with a very full box of money. Two, actually, since there was the one Allison was using by the door, outside. The good amount of money helps every year, and Derek couldn't be more grateful. His shop is doing great, after all, and he knows his family would be proud. They probably are proud, wherever they are. Derek just doesn't believe they can be gone completly, like Cora does. Their souls must be around, he's sure.

  Anyways, it's about 10pm when they start cleaning. Stiles hasn't talked to him all day, not really, and didn't even look at him since that one time with the box. It's really bugging Derek, that his best friend doesn't even want to look at him. On the other hand, he's brought this on himself, so.

  Deal with it, is what he's gotta do.

  Apparently, though, Allison doesn't want either of them to deal with it, wants them to work it out, probably, because the second Lydia and Jackson are out the door, she sneaks out with them and doesn't tell Stiles nor Derek she's leaving. That leaves them alone together, behind the counter. As Stiles puts his apron back in place, Derek tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes to his mind.

   He doesn't need to, though, because Stiles does it for him. "You know, this year it was really good."

  His voice is small, low, and he dares to look at Derek for only three seconds, every once in a while, as he waits for Derek to answer. But he can't, he _can't,_ because there's something in his throat that's stopping him from saying a word.

  But Stiles is waiting for him, so he _needs_ to say something. Anything.

  "Yeah, it was." Is what he settles for. And then, thinking about it, he decides he needs to talk about what happened, needs to listen to what Allison's been telling him for the last week, and talk to Stiles. So he says a quiet, "I'm sorry."

  Stiles just looks at him for a couple of seconds, all long body and messed hair and fingers intertwined, hands playing mindlessly like always. Derek finds it hard to breathe under that stare, under the big brown eyes that hunt him. Stiles opens his mouth, closes it again, and then finally starts talking.

  "You're sorry? Why? Because you chose your girlfriend over me? I get it, Derek, I really do. And I still want to be your friend, but I think that right now that might be a little bit hard. Like, really hard." He pauses. He's not mad, Derek can tell, but he's hurt, clearly. "Just give me sometime and we can go back to normal, I'm sure."

  "Stiles, I'm so, so sorry, really. I didn't mean any of what I said, please, listen to me, I really didn't-"

  "Yes, you did. You _meant_ it. And that's why I didn't want to come here, you know, because I knew you'd be all ' _I'm sorry, Stiles'_ and telling me you didn't mean it and being all like a cute protective teddy bear, treating me like we're still the way we were when it's clearly not the situation."

  His hands are moving as he talks, and his tone is fast but not loud, like he wants to get it all out really quick, but doesn't want Derek to actually hear it.

  "That's not why- it's not why I'm telling you I'm sorry, it's because I really am, not because I'm being protective or something."

  "You know what, Derek? _You're_ the one that turned me down, with every single word. Go back to your girlfriend and let me be. I'm getting over you, for sure. I'm probably gonna go on a date tomorrow, even. With, this, um, this guy I met."

  "Oh." Is all that comes out of his mouth.

  But no, _no,_ Stiles needs to know that Derek wants him, that Derek's in love with him, and that he's broken up with Braeden, because he wants Stiles _,_ his best friend, not anyone else, _Stiles_. He needs to know all that.

  "Stiles, no, you need to listen-"

  "I don't _need_ to do anything." And now Derek can tell he's mad. Great one, Derek. "I'm leaving. And going on a date with William tomorrow. I don't need you, Derek, you're pretty good, yes, but you're not different than anyone else. Goodbye."

  And he's turning around, and leaving, and Derek can't allow that, because he still haven't said the words sitting painfully on his tongue, and he has to, so the next second he's right behind Stiles, following him with fast steps, desperate, chanting his name repeatedly.

  Stiles doesn't turn around, and when Derek can finally say it, he's already turning the corner, wind messing his hair even more, if possible.

  "Stiles! I'm in love with you! _I'm in love with you!"_

But he's already gone. Derek doesn't go after him.

 

 ✦

 

  Derek was sure it couldn't get any worse than that, but, well. It's like every movie ever, when one character says 'it can't get worse than this', and then it starts raining. Basically, Derek is that character. Sunday brings the rain.

  His shop is devoid of cupcakes after Saturday, but there's still every kind of cake and pies and coffee. There's also Stiles sitting on a table with a very hot guy in front of him. Derek just can't _believe_ he had the audacity to come here after, well, everything. And bring along a blonde, short, ridiculously ripped guy.

  Worst of all, it's Allison's day off, and Sunday is a very slow day, so there's only Derek on the shop, and he has to make them coffee and go over their table and deliver it, and he's going to have to take their money, too.

  So, he might be a little dramatic, because this doesn't feel like rain, it's more like a storm, the kind that rips trees off the ground, roots and all.

  He's pretty sure he's staring, but what can be done about that? It's impossible not to.

  It's just, Stiles looks as good as always, and there's the guy, and he's _laughing,_ and all Derek did these last few days was make him sad.

  God, everything sucks so much.

  He's impossibly thankful when an old couple walks in, and distracts him. It only lasts a few moments, though, and after they get their coffees and leave, he's left on the bottom of the pit once again.

  The storm turns into a hurricane, because then Stiles gets up, and the guy does too, and they walk towards the register, side by side, talking and smiling at each other. They're cute together, and that has Derek wanting to die.

  And then they start arguing about who's paying. By now, Derek really wishes he had something on his hands, like a knife or maybe a fork or a pencil, whatever, so he could stab both eyes with it.

  But. He has to do his job, so that's what he does. When they finally decide who's paying - Stiles, it is -, Derek takes the money from his hands and fumbles with it, trying to remember what's twenty minus fourteen. It's a very difficult operation, at the moment.

  "Will, can you give me a moment with the big guy here? He's an-" There's a small pause,  like Stiles doesn't know how to classify Derek anymore, and then, "-, old friend."

  Old friend, yeah. Derek's sure he were, at least.

  "Alright." The guy, _Will,_ answers. He turns around and gets out the door, and Derek doesn't miss the way his hand brushes Stiles' hip right before.

  _Old friend_ and _big guy_ are still repeating on Derek's mind.

  "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I know this is very weird. Just, he said he'd take me to a nice place, and then, he brought me here, and there was nothing I could do. So."

  Derek just looks at him. He's never been good at showing his feelings, and that never really worked well for him. Right now, though, he's thanking God, 'cause he really doesn't want Stiles to know that he's jealous _as fuck_ and also a little mad and very sad. He's also sure he's staring in that scary way, like he does sometimes, because Stiles seems to want to dig a hole on the ground and disappear, all of a sudden.

  So he tries his best to soften his expression, and then goes for a smile. "No problem. Here's your change, have a nice day."

  Stiles' eyes widen a little, like he's surprised, then he takes the money and leaves.

  Derek considers suicide. He should've said it, damn it, he had the chance right there and wasted it. Jesus, he's so fucking stupid _it hurts._

  Suicide won't solve his problem, though. The hurricane, storm, rain, whatever it is, is right there mocking him, and he needs to find the sun _now,_ to make it right, like he needs to.

  Good thing he's already got an idea of _who_ the sun is.

 

 ✦

 

  As weird as it is, the sun outside is shining like nothing happened, no storm or anything of that matter. Maybe it just happened over Derek's head, then.

   He's closed the shop earlier, at 4pm, because there's something he really needs to do, and Sunday _is_ a slow day, anyways, so. He doesn't really need to be there - at least it's what he's been telling himself for the last ten minutes. It doesn't help his nerves whatsoever.

  When a hand touches his shoulder, he turns around, calm as always, to meet a asymmetric jaw and Asian eyes.

  "Hey, man." Scott says, his arm locked firmly on Kira's waist.

  He's pretty sure he said he needed to talk to Scott, and Scott only, but by now he's accepted that Scott and Kira are basically a package that can't be torn apart, so he doesn't say anything. Not that he needs to, anyway, because Scott keeps on talking.

  "Sorry, I know you asked _me_ to come, but Kira is better with that kind of stuff."

  "It's alright." Derek mumbles, and then, "Why the park, exactly?"

  "Oh, it's a very nice place." Kira gives him.

  Derek simply nods, because, well, small talk is not the reason he's here.

  "Lets talk about it." Scott says as he sits on a small bench, bringing Kira with him, and she settles on his lap. "Yout saw Stiles today, right?"

  "Yeah. Came to the shop, with this guy, Will, I think."

  Scott and Kira exchange a look, like they know something, and Derek feels lost. He's used to people not telling him stuff, though. (Cora says it's because he's very guarded to himself, so people probably think he doesn't care about what they have to say, just because he oftenly doesn't answer. He does care, though.)

  "Yeah, that might have been my fault, sorry." Scott cleans his throat. "I took Stiles to a bar, you know, because he was needing to let off some steam, and he met this William guy, so. But that was just because I thought you were done with him."

  Derek nods once again, unsure as what to say, and then the words leave his mouth before he can think about it. "It's alright. I was really fucking jealous though."

  Scott laughs, softly, and Kira is smiling at him, and he doesn't know what's so funny about it, but it's not like he's about to ask.

  "So you're not done with him. Good, I want you two to be together."

  "You two would be the cutest couple. Cuter than me and Scott, even." Kira comments.

  "Which is very hard, because we're _really_ cute."

  That draws a smile from Derek, and he feels more at ease now. It's something only a few people can get from him, genuine smiles.

  "Yeah, that you are. And that's why I need your help. Do you think Stiles is serious about this Will? Because I want him back, like, now."

  "I don't think he's serious, no. And I'd like for you to get him back. He's been playing the depressed child for the last week, and I hate it."

  "Also, he needs his job back." Kira finishes.

  And Derek needs Stiles back as soon as possible. He's pretty sure that Allison can never be as funny as him, or make Derek happy or give him such good orgasms, really. He likes her, but he's pretty sure there's no one out there he could like the way he likes Stiles.

  But there's no time to think about that, so he does his best to come back to Earth.

  Derek smiles once again, and then goes straight to business.

  "So, Kira, what do you suggest?"


	7. VII

  Stiles returns to his apartment walking, William right by his side through the two blocks that seem like the longest distance Stiles' ever walked. It probably is, tough. He's lazy as fuck.

  He's kind of anxious to get rid of this situation, because he's waiting for the moment William will ask about Derek, and he doesn't want to talk about _that._ Telling William he's cheated is probably not the best idea.

   But when they get to his building's door, he realises he doesn't want to be alone. Because, well, Derek just kind of ignored everyhing he said back at the shop, and treated him like a regular customer, which was not nice at all. Got him kind of mad and really fucking confused. He knows Derek hides everything he feels, so there's no way to know what that meant. Is Derek mad because Stiles is in love with him? Or is it because he's gone to the shop with another guy? Or maybe he's sad because he lost his friend.

  _God,_ why does Derek need to be so difficult? It's impossible for Stiles to deal with him.

  He's lost on his thoughts when William talks to him once again.

  "Can I come upstairs?"

  Stiles considers for a moment telling him to go away. Then he remembers that no, spending some time alone right now is a _horrible_ idea, so he agrees.

  After all, it's still just three in the afternoon. Which means they spent nearly two hours at the coffee shop, having a kind of weird not-healthy-at-all lunch. He figures William won't bother him just by being there.

  And he's right. They climb the stairs to his floor and walk in his apartment and sit and talk and laugh. William's great company, really. Stiles even manages to forget about Derek for a couple of hours. Not like, forget, _forget_ him, but just stop thinking about him for a while, it's good.

  When he finally looks at the clock, it's over six. The two movies they've watched really made the time fly.

  "Can I cook you dinner?" Will suggests.

  "Yeah, sure." Stiles' a shitty cooker, so it looks like the best idea in the history of forever from where he's standing. He gets up to guide Will to his small kitchen. "What are you cooking?"

  "It means you're not helping me, then?" Will asks, smile wide on his face, blue eyes playful.

  "You said _you'd_ cook _me_ dinner. So no." He answers, smiling at the same time he shrugs.

  "Fine. I'm cooking meatballs." William says, going over to the fridge to look inside it. "We need to go get some stuff. Like, meat, obviously, and sauce, and onions, oh my god, do you ever have food on your house or is it always like this?"

  "That sounds _awesome._ And it's always like this." Because, well, Derek usually makes Stiles' food, and they eat together, and then there's dessert. Derek's desserts. But Will doesn't need to know that, 'cause he'd probably think Stiles is pathetic.

  He is, though.

  They get their coats and go out to get their dinner. Well, the ingredients, at least.

 

✦ 

 

  "Done!" Will screams from the kitchen, while Stiles sets the table. His _actual_ table is inside the kitchen, but they're eating on his coffee table in the living room, so they can watch TV at the same time.

  Stiles gets back to the kitchen, helps Will bring the food to the living room, and then they sit on the ground, cross-legged, right in front of each other, and eat.

  "Wow." He mutters, mouth full of food. Delicious food. "This. Best meatballs ever."

  William smiles blindingly, and even blushes a little bit. "I'm a good cooker. Can't bake, though."

  And, well, that does things to Stiles. Because Derek can bake, that little shit. But _Derek_ doesn't want him around anymore, now that he's said the stupid words, so if he wants to taste that delicious sweet stuff ever again, he'll have to go through the embarrassment of buying it, so he's probably not going to touch one of those things ever again.

  But it's not the time to think about that. William is here, and cooked Stiles amazing dinner.

  They talk as they eat, not even paying attention to the TV. Talk about everything, and Stiles is actually surprised they still have something to talk about, given that they've spent the days together. They talk about exes, only Malia for Stiles (he doesn't mention Derek, 'cause he was not his actual boyfriend), and two guys for William, that tells him how his last boyfriend really fucked him up, with an abusive relationship and almost getting William arrested - along with him, who was now in jail for several crimes. William tells him he's wondered during the entire time they've been together how his boyfriend got so much money out of nowhere, but that every time he asked, all the answers he got were evasive. 

  Stiles listens to all of it, silent, nodding eventually and humming to show understanding. It's something new, staying silent instead of talking, but he kind of likes it. He's also wondering how can William be so bright and loud after everything that happened to him, with his boyfriends and parents and himself, everything he tells Stiles during dinner.

  "Your turn, Stiles. I've told all the shit that went down with me, now tell me yours."

  "Right." Stiles nods, bringing his glass of coke one more time to his lips, and then he starts talking. "Not as exciting as your story, though. Just, my mom died, I got really fucking sad and messed up for a few years, because I didn't know how to cope, you know? Scott helped me, though. And his mom helped my dad, they got married." He smiles.

  "I see you like her."

  "Yeah. She's not my mom, but it feels like she is, you know? Anyways, after that I went to college, but we didn't have enough money to pay for my tuition and all that. It was shit. Scott's father pays for his, that's why he's still going, becauseif he was relying on my dad and Melissa, it would be the same for him."

  "Right." William nods. "Tell me about your love life, then."

  "Had one girlfriend. Two years together, I cheated on her with my best friend, because I'm a fucking idiot, fell in love with him, he didn't want me, and that's it. Never had much of a love life before that. All that happened pretty recently, too. Like, more recently than you think."

   William stares at him for  a few seconds, then his face contorts into confusion. "You cheated with Scott?"

  "Wha- Oh. No, Scott's not my best friend, he's my brother."

  "Then who's your best friend?"

  Stiles stays silent. It's not like he's going to say 'that guy that owns the coffee shop you took me to today, _on a date_ '.

  "Wait is it 'big guy'? You know, hot, green eyes, works at Hale's?"

  Stiles doesn't know what to answer, or how William's so good at noticing stuff.

  He doesn't need to, because someone's at his front door, ringing the bell. He gets up to get it, maybe a little bit too fast, not even pretending to not ignore William's question entirely.

  "Saved by the bong." He hears William whisper behind him, and that gets a smile from him.

  A smile that falls really fast, once he opens the door and faces Derek. And then there are arms around him, William hugging him from behind, chin on Stiles' right shoulder.

  Derek stares at them for a moment, eyes switching from William's hands to Stiles' face. He's got an open mouth, like he wants to say something, but can't. Stiles is in the same situation, and he feels William's body heat leaving him, and hears steps as William walks towards the kitchen, giving them some privacy, for some reason. Maybe he knows what's up. Being alone with Derek doesn't make it any better, though.

  "Ah, I'm- I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm leaving. Bye." Derek finally stutters.

  Stiles' about to go after him, when he realises he's waited too many seconds, because Derek is already by the elevator, pressing the button hardly. It looks like he wants to break it.

  Stiles walks towards Derek, but the doors are opening and Derek's inside, going down and down, and there's nothing he can do. He thinks about it for a moment, and then presses the button as well, waits for the elevator to come back with Derek inside it.

  There's no Derek inside it when it returns, though, just the familiar mirror with the familiar image of himself and-

  And a crumpled paper on the ground, corners torn out a little bit. Most probably by strong hands.

  Stiles bends down and grabs it, straightens it before he starts reading.

 

  _ten things I want to tell Stiles_

_1\. he's awesome_

_2\. I love his laugh and his stupid jokes_

_3\. and his hair_

_4\. he's probably the best kisser to ever walk on earth_

_5\. I love that he can't cook or bake, so I have an excuse to do it for him_

_6. ~~I'd kill for him~~ I'd do something very drastic for him, probably_

_7\. I love that he's such a nerd_

_8\. I broke up with my girlfriend for him_

_9\. I'm endlessly in love with him_

_10\. this was Kira's idea (she knows I'm shit with expressing my feelings, and words in general, so thanks for the idea, Kira)_

 

He doesn't know how to feel about it. How  _should_ he feel about it? 

  Instead of trying to understand what's going through his own head, Stiles walks back to his apartment, eyes glued on the paper. When he looks up, he's already inside his house, standing right by his front door. And there's William, holding his coat in one hand and his phone on the other.

  "You leaving?"

  "Yeah. Figured you needed some space. I guess there  _is_ something with the big guy, right? Is it him? The best friend?"

  Stiles just nods, dumbfounded, unsure as what to say. Should he try to tell William that he's dating  _him_ now? Or maybe tell him the truth, that he's completely in love with Derek? It's just so hard to know what to do in this situation,  _Jesus._

  "Listen, don't feel bad. I can see you're totally into him. Realised something was off earlier, at the coffee shop, actually, and then you told me the story, and yeah. So, you know I'm not really good with relationships, especially after what happened with- with  _him,_ so I think it's better if we don't date anymore." Will pauses, catches his breath, after talking really fast. "So, yeah. We can be friends, though, right? Please?"

  "Yeah, yeah."

  And then Stiles can't fight the urge anymore, just crosses the few steps between them and hods Will, close. ''Thanks. Thanks, Will. He's in love with me. He's  _in love_ with me."

  "That's great!" William smiles, surprisingly sincere. It's great, it feels great, and Stiles kind of loves him, as a friend, totally. "Go get that man, Stiles. Now." And then he's gone, leaving Stiles alone, still smiling blindingly. 

  Yes, get that man, Stiles will.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love William, he's all I want, really. (Also, I was supposed to study for History and Biology, but who needs that when you can do something that wont't get you in college instead, right?)


	8. VIII

  Derek walks ten steps out of Stiles' building when he realises the piece of paper is not secure in his hand anymore. He runs back into the building and the elevator, only to find out that it's not even there. Anyone could have grabbed and read it. Worse: _Stiles_ could have done that, and there's pretty much nothing he can do by now.

  So instead of trying to do anything, he gives up, plugs the 'whatever' on and goes back home. After two weeks of moping and trying to find a solution to his big mouth that doesn't obey to his brain, he decides to actually take some action and stand up, chase Stiles' affection, all to find Stiles with _William,_ in his apartment, like taking him out on a date wasn't enough.

  He figures they're together. Probably.

  His house is empty, just as the coffee shop under it, since he's closed it for nothing, basically.

  Derek climbs the stairs like he's in a hurry, only to go straight to the kitchen and start baking. It helps bringing out his feelings, without having to say a word. It's all about the way he does it: if he's mad, it's like wants to rip the cake apart and throw it to the nearest wall. If he's happy, it's all about using his happiness for his job. If he's sad, like today, and feels like he might cry, it's about baking slowly, taking his time to get a perfect result, just to take his mind off whatever it is that's bugging him.

  So he bakes a cake and several cupcakes, decorates every single part of each one perfectly, calmly, while music plays in the background. It's like therapy. It's better than therapy, probably, because after he's done with everything and bringing it down to the shop, placing it inside the fridge to sell tomorrow morning, he's actually feeling better.

  It's very late when he finishes, so all he needs to do now is go to bed.

 

 ✦

 

  Derek's gotten four compliments on his decorated cupcakes so far this morning, which makes him fell accomplished. It's great.

  Scott walks in when it's already afternoon, right when Derek is about to take his break and leave Allison to take care of everything. Which is probably Scott's intention, considering the first thing he does is grab Derek by the arm and take him out the front door, into the good spring weather.

  "Did you do it? Where's Stiles?"

  "Ah, actually. I did go to his place, but he was with William, so." Derek says, hands on his pockets, staring at the concrete walls all around him, where most of the other shops of Beacon Hills are.

  "Oh my god." Scott walks until he's right in front of Derek. "You two are the worst people ever. After all that drama, cheating and falling for each other and all that shit, you can't even talk to each other about it, Jesus. Sort it out, Derek."

  "I'm- I'm trying, but. It's like the universe doesn't-"

  "Shut up. The universe totally wants you together. _Everyone_ does." Scott pauses to get on top of his bike, the helmet on his head already. "Text him, ask him to come over, or go after him."

  Derek's about to answer and say it's not going to work, but Scott's already gone, the sound of his engine loud in the quiet street. It's not a very busy day. It never is, in Beacon Hills, so Derek figures that maybe he can just go for it and leave Allison working. He can reward her later, right?

   Right. So as soon as he's inside the shop, he grabs his phone and texts Stiles, fast.

 

  _we need to talk. do I come over or?_

He waits for less than a minute, and his answer comes.

 

  _ill go over there, think I need a coffee anyway_

And then he waits.

  Stiles walks through the door shortly after, wearing a simple blue shirt and jeans. Derek notices a piece of paper in one of his hands, phone on the other.

  When he reaches the counter, Derek takes the sight of him, cute and beautiful and like a puppy, big eyes and thin lips, and thinks he might have never seen someone as gorgeous.

   Stiles puts the paper on the counter, and pushes it in Derek's direction.

  "You lost this. Was inside my elevator."

  Derek looks down at it, notices his hurried handwriting. Right, so Stiles read it. He's a little embarrassed, and thirty different possibilities as to what's going to happen now cross his mind. Stiles could be mad, or even pity Derek, and tell him he's dating someone else, because well, he _is_. Or maybe just leave, or yell, and there's even the chance of him actually talking to Derek and feeling the same, but he doesn't let that hope take his body.

  He also doesn't answer, instead just waits for Stiles to continue. Which he does right after.

  "So I made one of my own." Stiles mutters, and slides another paper over to Derek.

 

  _ten things I want to tell Derek_

_1\. I'm in love with him (I already told him, but)_

_2\. He's the hottest person ever_

_3\. I love that he looks like he can beat everyone up when he wouldn't hurt a fly_

_4\. I love that his favorite show is Cake Boss_

_5\. He's the best friend I could've asked for_

_6\. And the best baker too_

_7\. I want to have his adopted babies_

_8\. And cuddle and have sex and all that_

_9\. I'm really fucking in love with him_

_10\. This is actually a very good idea, considering we both suck_

Derek reads it over and over again, disbelieving.

  "I don't understand. Aren't you with William?"

  "Uh. We were kind of dating, but we..." Stiles pauses, face twisting into confused. "Broke up? I guess."

  Derek nods, thinking about what he's going to say next. It's an awkward situation, this one. Does he walks around the counter to kiss Stiles or...?

  It's not like he needs to think for too long, because Stiles is the one that always takes the control of everything when it comes to them, so. The next thing he knows, _Stiles_ is the one turning around the counter, walking straight to Derek behind it, stopping right in front of him.

  They just look at each other for a moment, and then Stiles sighs and gets a little closer, whispers  "This is so awkward."

  Derek nods again, smiles a little, because Stiles is _here,_ right in front of him, getting closer and closer every second, looking at him with the big eyes, hands on Derek's hips, and it's the best feeling ever, like he's floating around on top of a cloud or something as cheesy as that.

  The storm from yesterday is long gone, and now the sun shines brighter than ever. Derek gets the feeling that if it rains, at least now they'll face it together. Under the same umbrella.

  And then Stiles kisses him. It's even better than all of the times they've done this before, because now they're together, no cheating or anything like that. His mouth pursues Stiles', his hands go for his waist, arms tangling around it strongly, like he doesn't want Stiles' body to leave his own. (He really doesn't.)

  Derek vaguely remembers that they're on a public place, his shop, and that Allison is here, and a couple of customers as well, but the open-mouthed kiss where their tongues meet and slide against each other is too good for him to let go, and Stiles' hands on his hips are too tight, he doesn't want them to leave his body.

  But when he needs air, he has to let go. Not fully, though, just with his mouth, because his arms stay around Stiles and Stiles' hands stay where they are, and they look at each other again.

  "Not the best place to do this, you know." Stiles comments.

  Derek laughs, pecks his lips and then his cheeks, forehead, nose, every part of Stiles' face he can reach, whispering "I missed you" when he's finished, looking deeply into Stiles' eyes.

  "I think my favorite color might be green."

  "What?" Derek asks, because that makes no sense, and doesn't complete or answer what he said.

  "Not any green, though. This shade of green, right there, in your eyes."

  Derek feels his face contort into what is probably the biggest, brightest and most sincere smile he's ever smiled in his life. Stiles makes him happy. All the time.

  "Please tell me you're coming back to work here. Please."

  "Of course, man." Stiles says, batting Derek's arm. "I need the money. And to be around you. I need to confirm you're not going to cheat on me."

  Stiles is playing, smile on his lips, but it makes Derek's body stiffen and his expression go serious. "We should promise not to do that again. Even if, like, Ian Somerhalder wants one of us. No cheating."

  "Yeah." Stiles replies, expression serious too, now. "Wait, not even Ian Somerhalder?"

  "Okay, singers and actors and pop stars in general are allowed. Because, you know, they're not real."

  Stiles laughs, bright and beautiful, and then disintangles Derek's arms from his body, takes Derek's hand and starts walking towards the stairs that lead to Derek's apartment above the shop.

  "Hi Ali. We're going upstairs. Bye, Alli."

  "Already told you not to call me Alli, haven't I?" Allison screams, somewhere under them. They're halfway through the stairs now, Derek trying to keep up with Stiles' giant legs.

  As soon as they're inside the door, Stiles pushes Derek against it, Derek's back flat against it, big hands on each side of his head. He yanks Stiles closer, kisses him bruisingly, tongues and hands and pants all over the place.

  "Let's be cliche, okay?" Stiles breaks the kiss suddenly. "You're gonna fuck me."

  "How is that cliche?"

  "Well, because, you're bigger than me, and all that."

   Oh, right. Well, Derek doesn't care anyway. Of course he won't oppose to fucking Stiles. Who would _do_ that? So he just nods briefly, smiles a little and kisses Stiles again. For a moment, he's surprised about how much Stiles makes him smile. More than anyone else ever does, except for Cora and her stupid jokes. He misses Cora. Not exactly the time for that, though, because he's going to _fuck Stiles._ Who cares about sisters.

   Derek starts walking, his hands on Stiles' hips guiding both of them to the bedroom, still kissing. Well, until the moment Stiles' back hits a wall, and then they're laughing, instead. They make it to bedroom safely, eventually.

  When they do, Derek pushes Stiles on the bed, careful so as not to do it too harshly.

  "What do you want me to do?" He asks, body hovering over Stiles', not quite touching, except for his lips all over Stiles' neck, pressing small kisses and bites.

  "Anything you want's fine."

  Oh, right. Stiles might be trying to kill Derek from indecision. There's so many things he'd like to do with Stiles - kiss him until they're both breathless, cuddle while watching Cake Boss, spend every Christmas and new year's eve and birthday together, and travel and spend time with Stiles' family and have Stiles spending time with _his_ family, and maybe blend both their families into one.

  When it's about sex, there's just as many things in his mind.

  Eventually, he decides. Moves to the side of his bed, grabs lube and a condom and returns to Stiles, who's taken his shirt off, and starts kissing his entire upper body, every single piece he can reach, moving down towards his crotch.

  When he gets there, his hands fumble with the buttons of Stiles' jeans, while his lips play with the soft skin on his stomach, feeling every breath Stiles takes right in his face. It doesn't take too long to take Stiles' pants off, and when he does, he pushes his boxers down as well.

  The sight of Stiles naked is not something new to him, but like this, laying down in his bed with the sunlight streaming through the window, glittering on his skin, while he looks down at Derek with clear expectation on his face is a new sight, and probably the best Derek's ever seen. It makes Derek's breath get stuck on his throat.

  But he needs to get to business, 'cause he doesn't want to leave Stiles waiting.(Okay, maybe because he doesn't want to keep waiting himself.)

  So, the next second, he wraps his lips around Stiles' length, giving him no warning at all, which has Stiles' breath hitching and his hips jolting a little, getting himself deeper into Derek's mouth. That really doesn't bother him, but he's got another goal on his mind, so he backs off, wrapping his hand around Stiles but taking his mouth away.

  He reaches his goal seconds later, his mouth on Stiles' hole, pushing this tiny whimper from him, that only gets Derek hotter. He licks teasingly for a couple of seconds, before pushing his tongue in, just the tip, circling the rim from inside. He has to place his hands on Stiles' hips, because he keeps moving. Derek fucks him with his tongue for a while, pushing in as deep as he can, revelling in Stiles' noises.

  When he thinks it's enough, he retracts his tongue and his body, sits on the bed, looking for the lube. Stiles opens his eyes suddenly to look at him, probably wondering why Derek's stopped, and opens his mouth like he's about to ask, when Derek finds the lube under the sheets and rises his hand that's holding it, for Stiles to see it, which has his mouth closing instantly.

  Derek makes sure his fingers are coated perfectly in lube before pushing one inside Stiles, up to his knuckle. The moment he starts moving it in and out, Stiles moans, and Derek looks at him, getting surprised by how _gorgeous_ Stiles looks like this, cheeks red, mouth open, cock flushed against his belly as Derek fucks him with his finger.

  He pushes another finger in, and when he knows it's okay to, the third one, and scissors them intently, opening Stiles up and making sure he'll be ready for his cock. (Said cock is twitching in anticipation, actually.)

  "Derek, that's-" Stiles gasps, breathes in before continuing, "-that's enough, I'm ready."

  Derek pushes his fingers in once more before removing them.

  He sits in between Stiles' open legs, puts the condom on and grabs the lube once again to slick himself up, and in no time he's lined up against Stiles. He pushes in slowly, eyes locked with Stiles', until he's fully settled in and both of them need to close their eyes and breathe, for a second.

  When he opens his eyes, it's to find Stiles staring at him, raising his hand to cup Derek's cheek. It's adorable, and Derek's heart flutters with it.

  He starts moving slowly, gradually gaining speed, fucking Stiles like it's what he was born to do, and maybe it is. Stiles' moans keep him going, his low 'fuck' and 'Derek' every once in a while getting Derek closer and closer to the edge, bringing Stiles with him.

  At one point, Stiles' nails scratch his back, making him moan loudly. He knows there are people downstairs, in the shop, and he _really_ hopes no one can hear them, because he's really not going to stop. It's too good, Stiles' hands on his body, Stiles' heat around him, Stiles' whines and moans, Stiles' mouth on his, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. He breathes and lives Stiles.

  When he's close, he wraps his hand around Stiles' cock under him, and pumps it hurriedly. Derek feels Stiles' orgasm all around him seconds later, in the way he squeezes around Derek, in the way he moans loudly and archs his back off the bed slightly, throwing his head back. It's such a vision. Has Derek closing his eyes and reaching his own orgasm, body collapsing on top of Stiles' to bite his neck, even if just lightly.

  And then it ends for both of them, tired and spent and happy, Derek's body still on top of Stiles', both their frantic breaths blending when they kiss.

  He rolls away a couple of moments later, breaking the kiss to lay down besides Stiles. Looking to his side, he sees the prettiest man ever, with his eyes closed, breathing in and out, trying to come down from his high.

  His heart swell. He loves Stiles.

  "I love you."

  Stiles turns to look at him, smiling. Suddenly, he climbs on top of Derek, legs on each side of Derek's hips, and kisses him. Slowly, lovingly. Nothing like the way this started.

  "I love you too, big guy." He says, laying on Derek's chest.

  They spend a few moments silent, just laying down right next to each other.

  "It was different this time, wasn't it?" Stiles whispers, breaking the silence, after what could be ten minutes or an hour. Derek's not sure.

  He just hums in agreement, because it _was._ This time they weren't desperate, or trying to hide from anyone, or doing it while their girlfriends were studying or working. They don't even have girlfriends anymore. It was different, and it was great, and better.

  On top of all that, Derek's finally said the words. He stills need to tell Stiles about how he's had a crush on him since the moment he walked in for his first say, but oh well. He figures there's going to be a lot of time for that, now.

 "Shower?" He asks.

  Stiles gets up, staring at him standing beside the bed. There's a playful smile on his lips, that makes him look younger, somehow. It's cute. He turns around and walks towards the bedroom, wiggling his ass purposely.

  "You mean round two in the shower, right?" He says, turning to look at Derek, smile still on his lips. "It's your turn now."

  It has Derek smiling, sighing, loving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the eeeenddd hold your breath and count to tennnn  
> (anyways i have and idea for an epilogue in my head, if you want it just say the word)  
> THANKS EVERYONE WHO'S READ MY SHITTY STORY!


	9. Epilogue

  "Stiles, you will give me a slice of pudding, please?" Melissa asks, holding her plate right in front of Stiles' face. He grabs it, slides the slice of pudding on top of it and returns it to her. "Thanks."

  He smiles at her. Stiles couldn't be happier. It's been a year and ten months since he and Derek started officially dating, and Stiles  _couldn't be happier_. It's their second Christmas together, all of them gathered around a table like a giant family - Stiles and Scott, their happily married parents, Kira and her family, and obviously, Derek, Cora and Peter, the ones who used to have only each other and now have all these people around them.

  He remembers pretty well the way every single person in their life reacted to the news, almost two years ago. Allison already knew, of course, but congratulated them anyways. Scott and Kira almost threw a party to celebrate. Melissa and the Sheriff smiled and told them to take care of each other. Cora said _"finally",_ like she was already expecting that, and also told Stiles (without Derek knowing) that Derek had a crush on him since always - which was very welcome information. Peter just shrugged and resumed eating his apple, which is good, probably. Better than hating them together. All the rest of their friends just commented on their Facebook status. Well, except for Malia and Braeden. Malia didn't share her opinion about it, obviously. At least not to them. Braeden told Allison (who told them, of course) that she didn't take long to get over Derek, and that they were actually cute together. Sincere as always.

  Christmas was really good, but all of them have to part ways, eventually, really late in the night, after eating more than they can take. They're not healthy at all (not even Scott, who's always working out and stuff). Stiles, specially, is not healthy _at all._  It's a good thing he doesn't care. (It's not like all that shit Derek bakes are healthy either, so who cares.)

  Stiles and Derek go straight to Derek's apartment, like they always do after basically everything. Stiles barely even remembers how his own house looks like. Most of his clothes are now on Derek's drawers, and everything he needs for college on top of Derek's table. Being finally able to come back to his studies is something he really appreciates. It's like his life has taken an unexpected twist over the last year, and if it gets better than this, it's going to get spoiled.

  "Why don't you just move in?" Derek blurts out, suddenly, during their car ride.

  It's kind of surprising, out of nowhere, and Stiles doesn't know how to answer. He thinks about it for a moment. He's  _basically_ living with Derek now, but. Basically. It wouldn't be hard to just gather the few items that still lay on his almost empty apartment and move them to Derek's place. Not paying rent would help a lot, too.

  "If you don't want to, just say it. It's alright." Derek whispers, low but still breaking the silence inside the car, and it's only then that Stiles realizes he's been silent for too long.

  "No, no." He says, maybe a little too loud. "I mean, yes. I want to. It's just, aren't we supposed to get married before that?"

  "You want to get married?" Derek turns to look at him, eyes wide, and stares for a couple of seconds. He watches Stiles' nod before returning his gaze to the street. "I mean, I didn't think you'd want to. You're only twenty-one, after all."

  "Said the incredibly grown-up, the most grown-up of all, twenty-three year old Derek Hale. Wow, so old."

  "Haha." Derek mocks. "Seriously, do you want to get married? You don't need to. If you want to just move in, do it."

  "I'd like to move in right away, actually. Like, tomorrow. As soon as possible. But we should get married, in a couple of years. If it works out, I mean."

  Derek nods. He's smiling, still looking at the street ahead of them. Stiles feels like smiling too. 

  "You know we're the lamest couple ever, right?" Derek says a couple of minutes later. "Like, neither of us proposed or any cheesy shit like that. We just  _agreed_ to get married."

  Stiles just laughs, because yes, they  _are_ the lamest couple ever. He thinks about all the things that prove that statement that happened in the last few months - Stiles and Derek accidentally exchanging their clothes, resulting in a Derek with very small clothes and a Stiles with very large ones; that one time when Derek tried to teach Stiles some things in the kitchen and they almost burned down the house; Stiles stealing food from Derek's plate, trying to be cute, and having an alergic reaction; doing grocery shopping together and arguing loudly over what kind of milk they would take, and everyone around watching them. And also a lot of other awkward situations, including during sex (when neither of them had lube, and they had to... well, use something else, for example).

  Okay, so most of those were Stiles' fault. Maybe he's the lame one, and Derek just got lame by association. 

  Which is a nice thought. Derek becoming anything because of spending time with Stiles. 

  God, he's so whipped. There's nothing he can do about it now, though, so he just intertwines his fingers with Derek's as they ride into sunset. (Not sunset, it's nearly four in the morning, but whatever.)

 

 ✦

 

  Stiles has been living with Derek for nearly a month when it happens.

  It's all pretty fast. A phone call from Melissa, Stiles rushing to the hospital to find Scott and his mom there, not even calling Derek. 

  His dad, that raised him alone after his mother died, that took years to find another person that would complete him (even when said person was right beside him all the time), that got mad when Stiles told him he cheated on his girlfriend, but still accepted Derek into the family with wide open arms. His dad, that took Scott into his house like his own son. His dad, that made the biggest effort to try and keep paying for Stiles' college, and didn't succed, but still tried to raise some money after Stiles dropped out. His dad, that worked his entire life to be at his work position. And now he's laying in a bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses trying to fix the problem.

  They sit together in the waiting room, Stiles, Scott and Melissa, looking at each other, at the closed door on their left, at nothing. It's the worst hour ever, just waiting without knowing what could happen.  _Anything_ can happen, and Stiles is definitely not ready for some of the options. One of the options. Scott's arm around his shoulders is grounding, though, and he makes it through the hour without a panic attack, or any tears. 

  When the doctor finally gets out of the room and asks who's Melissa, Stiles jolts awake from his trance, and gets up as well.

  "He's gonna be fine." The doctor says, pushing sighs of relief out of the three of them. "I can't say it wasn't serious, because it was. One of his coronary arteries was blocked by an alarming amount of cholesterol. It  _is_ serious. We'll be supervising him from now on, and he can't leave the hospital right away, but he'll be home soon. The family will have to help as well, specially with his eating habits." _  
_

"Can we see him?" Scott asks, like he didn't even listen to what the doctor said. Stiles did, but halfheartedly. It's not like he cares about much now that his dad's fine.

  ''Not right away, no. He's asleep."

  "Okay." Melissa mumbles. "Thanks." And then, turning to Stiles and Scott, "I'll stay here, you go home, boys. I'll call you when he's awake."

  Stiles would protest, he would, but he's actually really hungry and his stay here will not help anyone, specially his stomach, so he grabs his coat, hugs Melissa and Scott and leaves, without saying a word.

  Not saying a word is something extremely odd for Stiles, and of course Derek notices something happened the moment he walks inside the coffee shop.

  "What happened?" Derek asks, as Stiles wraps his arms around him, and even though he's clearly confused, he hugs Stiles back. Of course he does. It's Derek, and he's Stiles' rock, always there for him, no matter what. Just as Stiles was there for him in the anniversary of the Hale Fire.

  Stiles finally releases the tears he's been holding, into Derek's neck, but he's more than thankful because those are tears of relief. His dad is fine, and he's going to be fine for a long time, Stiles is sure. There's nothing he could want more than that right now.

  "Stiles?" Derek whispers into his hair.

  Stiles just hugs him tighter, and waits for the tears to stop so he can tell Derek everything.

 

 ✦

 

  It doesn't take long for his dad to start complaining about everything again, like the old man he's becoming. Just to see his dad being his usual self, joking once in a while, answering to everything with sarcasm, trying to understand all the 'weird stuff these young people are talking about today', is like a gift.

  Stiles notices Derek still doesn't know what to do about it. He's horrible with words, and his only way of showing feelings is by giving people the stuff he baked. He can't do that, though, because the old Stilinski can't eat anything like the sinful cupcakes and cakes and sweets Derek bakes, so he's got zero ways of showing how thankful he is for the good news. It's a good thing everyone knows he  _is_ thankful.

  Things go back to normal in a couple of weeks, when they all get used to the new routine with the old man. Except for the Sheriff himself, that keeps bragging about not being able to eat all that good stuff like before, of course.

 

✦

 

  At this point, Stiles is conviced that there's nothing better than living with Derek. 

  He wakes up to the smell of coffee and sweets and bread everyday, and it's the best thing ever. It's not only that, though - there's also the fact that Derek likes to keep the house clean, which works pretty well for Stiles. And there's also Derek's cute face when he sleeps, and eats, and does something. And his hot body, obviously. And sex anytime and anywhere. There's an endless list. Stiles just loves living with him.

  This morning, specially, is a good one, as it is their anniversary. Derek brings Stiles breakfeast in bed, waking him up with small kisses all over his body. They eat together, sitting on  _their_ bed, with a blanket wrapped around their bodies.

  "You know," Derek says, after a few minutes of silence, "I've never been good with words, that's why I decided to do this instead. I feel like 'I love you' wouldn't be enough."

  "It would." Stiles says, kissing him. When he backs off, he continues, "But I did plan on actions instead of words, too, for the record. Only it's not right now, it's tonight. Suit up, babe, we're going to a fancy restaurant." He completes, wiggling his eyebrows.

  "You didn't." Derek whispers.

  "Yes, I did, big guy."

  "Stiles." Derek says, eyebrows together like he's mad. "I bring you breakfeast in bed, and you take me to a restaurant? Not fair. I suck."

  "Yes, you do. My dick, mostly." Stiles comments, smiling.

  "God, I don't know how I've put up with you two years already."

  "Four. Four years." He fakes an offended face, which Derek actually falls for. Ha, he's so easy to play. "Are you not counting our friendship?"

  Derek kisses him, muttering 'I'm sorry' against his lips.

  "No, but for real." Stiles says, dropping the act, while he feeds Derek a piece of cake. "I don't care. Besides, this is probably the best breakfeast in bed ever. We have cake, and coffee, and tea, and all this shit. Best breakfeast, really. My dinner in a restaurant doesn't do this justice."

  "Shut up." And then Derek's kissing him, and Stiles is  _totally_ okay with that. More than okay, really.

  All of a sudden, Derek's on top of him, careful enough not to drop anything on the bed, and they kiss and kiss and kiss, until Stiles can't think, can't breathe, just love. Derek's too much. He's not only super protective and nice and caring but he's also incredibly hot. It's awesome.

  "You're awesome." Stiles tells him.

  "Thanks. Now eat." Derek says, rolling away from him, but still opening his arms when Stiles comes closer to cuddle. 

  He still can't believe all this started with a very wrong situation. 

  It's a good thing he knows he'll never cheat on Derek. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Now it is really over. (Good thing I already have other ideas for fics. Good for me, at least.)


End file.
